


Simple Things

by theHeartofPenelope



Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Bobby is precious, Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Friendship/Love, Honesty, Second Chances, Traveling through life, Trust, tagging as I go along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-01-13 18:52:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 51,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18474997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theHeartofPenelope/pseuds/theHeartofPenelope
Summary: They could be polar opposites in a way.One puts personal life before career. The other puts career before anything.One stops living out of a suitcase, while the other begins.Neither of them is content with where they are. But what they do have in common is that they both want nothing extraordinary – just life’s simple things. Plain and simple. Uncomplicated. Easy-peasy.Yes, they should be polar opposites.And thenthey meet…





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The prologue is my first building block - thank you for being patient with me... much more Tom in the next chapter... promise! Meanwhile, I do hope you enjoy this part.  
> (Aso, this is not beta’d. So forgive me for any typo's and whatnot)
> 
> Bonus : there is an pinterest moodboard --> https://www.pinterest.co.uk/theheartofpenelope/
> 
> You can also follow me on tumblr

****

**PROLOGUE**

**London**

**1.** The seminar was everything Charlotte had hoped it would be. It nurtured her desire for more in-depth information on specific subjects of her interest and the attending professionals were amiable, their visions thought provoking. The fact that _she_ would take the stage for a discourse the very next day was both a source of excitement and anxiety.

She’d promised herself to not dread this adventure she was currently experiencing, but rather to embrace it. With both arms wide open. And surprisingly enough, up until now she had managed to do so rather well… if you didn’t take into account the gut-wrenching, nerve-wracking 10 minutes she had to suffer through every time she was about to present herself on stage. You see, what Charlotte had in intelligence, she lacked in self-confidence.

 

After the last speech of the day, Charlotte had allowed herself a mere 15 minutes of networking before eagerly dashing off to her hotel room where she straightway jumped into the shower to freshen herself up. She swiftly slipped into a cobalt-blue dress (a summer favourite of hers, she would have to confess) and slid her feet into a pair of midnight blue pumps. Grasping her matching clutch, she set sail through the doors and into the summer night.

_Oh, the lure of recreation after a day of exertion …_

 

Charlotte hadn’t felt so excited in a long time. It was quite strange really. The moment she set foot in the UK again, a sense of happy nostalgia settled upon her. Charlotte wasn’t British, not really. However her maternal grandparents had British roots. Although her grandfather’s job had led him all through Europe back in his young years, and his wife and 2 daughters along with him. Together they’d seen a fair share of countries, before the family ultimately settled down by the English seaside near Whitstable, Kent.

A soft smile curled across her lips as she vaguely remembered summer days spent by Whitstable Marina when she was a child, her tiny hand in her granddad’s as they strolled around looking at boats, attending the Oyster Festival and watching those silly yet traditional parades. She loved it. Although, truth be told, she was more infatuated with the girls who got to dress up as mermaids. Secretly wishing that somehow, one day, she could dress up to play a mermaid as well. It was her silver lining to the Oysters Festival. Grown-ups indulged in the culinary event, but to a child the whole Festival-site just smelled ‘funny’, ‘fishy’ and ‘yucky’. Even to this day the stench haunted her. It set her off oysters for life…

As a result of their lifestyle her grandparents’ two daughters were brought up speaking multiple languages and were encouraged to take part in life wherever it would bring them. It was a characteristic both daughters mechanically bestowed upon their own children. While both daughters aimed for permanent habitat as they grew into adulthood, a life that didn’t involve moving around all the time, they insisted their own children to travel explore and learn.

Yes, the effects on Charlotte’s generation were clear. While her brother had submerged himself in science and unsurprisingly settled for a life on the other side of the world (at NASA). Charlotte grew up to be a curious and avid traveller as well as an Anglophile, with an outspoken passion for English literature that extended from literature into drama. Her mum had prided herself on the English bedtime stories they would all read together when her children were mere kids; truly crediting this had provided the solid base for her children’s future successful endeavours. Her husband did not protest, but smiled back at her in loving admiration.

 

But tonight, this night, Charlotte’s excitement wasn’t solely based on happy nostalgia. Not entirely. Fact of the matter is that she had always dreamed of catching a play at Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre in London. Someday. The fact that Sir Ian McKellen was performing King Lear at the exact time when she would be in London for professional reasons was just perfect. A dream come true. Were it not that from within the bounds of her country it had seemed sheer impossible to book tickets for said play.

It had driven her absolutely mad. So when opportunity knocked some 10 days ago and she was offered a ticket, she most definitely did not decline. Quite the contrary. Charlotte was not one to beg for anything but when someone wanted to bestow a ticket upon her as a means of saying ‘thank you’, who was she to refuse it…

 

**2.**

So far, it was the perfect night already. The underground was running precisely on schedule and so Charlotte made it into the Globe Theatre right on time.

Both delighted and amazed by the sights of the Theatre under that setting summer sun, she sauntered towards the entrance, ready to watch that Shakespeare play performed, as it would have been for those watching it back in the 1600’s. Somewhat. A content smile crept across her lips, her giddy inner child leapt for joy.

 

The e-mail sent to her advised Charlotte to check in at the Box Office where a ticket would be kept aside under her name. She made a mental note to send a thank you note of some sort afterwards to her generous benefactor, even though most likely it was his publicist who’d essentially done all the work. And subsequently mused that she would and should make a point out of addressing the publicist and his efforts quite clearly…

 

Once ‘inside’ Charlotte was formally ushered into a – in her opinion - beautiful box. The entire Theatre was constructed out of wood. The seats were plain, yet beautiful, wooden benches built in between makeshift boxes. The Theatre in its own was quite basic, taking place in open air. But the history surrounding it humbled her instantly.

The box in which she would be seated was set in the centre of the middle floor, from where the view on the stage was nothing short of spectacular. _“The RADA-box, ma’am,”_ the usher had courteously informed her. And it had to be said, the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art really did have the perfect seats within the entire Theatre. Charlotte happily accepted the faux-velvet cushion that was offered to her before she made her way to her designated place in the box, anxious and curious for what would ensue.

 

The Theatre was filling up quickly, she observed. The RADA-box however was not. When the lights faded and the curtains were about to open, she noticed one seat was left unoccupied. _Shame_ , she thought, _you’d at least expect RADA to fill up its sight, night after night_ … The moment Sir Ian McKellen took the stage, however, she abandoned all other thought and revelled in pure bliss. The actor, the theatre, the play, they all moved her heart.

The well-known story soon swept her away instantly and intermission came far too soon to her liking. While the fellow theatregoers left the box in search for refreshments, Charlotte chose to head the opposite way and walked towards the banister from where she absent-mindedly watched the Yard down below and the audience there who trickled on out into the hallway.

She never took notice of the one man who remained in the box with her, who observed her and her inquisitive ways with an amused look. It was only when she eventually turned around - ready to get a drink herself - that his pair of familiar clear blue eyes sympathetically locked with hers…


	2. Chapter one : London, day eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> excerpt : "All first dates should be held in a theatre, he mused, in surroundings that demanded soft touches and silent whispers. Where you were perfectly allowed, even expected to lean in close to show consideration to your date and, at the same time, were able to subtly take note of each other’s behaviour both consciously and subconsciously. The way she smells, the way she smiles, discovering what moves her and what shocks her, … but this wasn’t a first date now was it?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is - chapter one. Enjoy gentleman!Tom.  
> Feedback always appreciated... ;-)
> 
> (Aso, this is not beta’d. So forgive me for any typo's and whatnot)
> 
> Bonus : there is an pinterest moodboard --> https://www.pinterest.co.uk/theheartofpenelope
> 
> You can also follow me on tumblr (link on my dashboard)

****

**Chapter 1**

**London – day eleven continued**

 

 **1.  
**His presence was unexpected to her, yet not unwelcome. And while it warmed Charlotte’s heart to see a familiar face, her mind was thrown in a loop. Would she be allowed to define Tom Hiddleston as a ‘familiar face’? Granted, they had – very- pleasantly crossed paths a short while ago but afterwards they – naturally - went their separate ways. And that was no cause for concern; it was merely the way things were bound to evolve. You come together in a professional atmosphere; you meet each other’s acquaintance before your respective paths unsurprisingly part into two different directions. Such is life.

Yet, against all odds, 10 days or so later - there he was again. Leaning back in his seat, his one foot propped up on his other knee. Head slightly slanted and looking onto her with nothing but sympathy in his eyes, slightly amused even.

 

“Well hello,” he said with a kind and polite smile as he rose to his feet.

“Hello, I erm,” Charlotte mirrored, not even bothering to hide the surprise in her voice, “I had no idea you would be here….”

“I apologize, I was late,” he paused and shook his head as he looked towards his feet suddenly, supressing a soft chuckle, “that’s a lie, I’m afraid.”

“Is it?” she couldn’t help but smile at his sometimes-boyish charm.

“I slipped in when the lights had already died…”

“Craving privacy?” It was a sincere, albeit clichéd, question on her part. Though when she laid her eyes upon the talented actor once more, he only countered her query with a mysterious smile she could not quite place.

 

They walked up to one another to exchange a polite peck on the cheek when Tom absent-mindedly gently caressed her arm. A warm spark of familiarity hit her.

 

“Are you enjoying the play?” he kindly wondered, but Charlotte took more note of his skilful effort to steer the conversation into a different direction

“Very much so,” she smiled, “I want to thank you again for arranging me a ticket.”

“You’re very welcome,” he answered in honesty, “it was the least I could do for your professional assistance at ComiCon.”

“I’m afraid I was just doing my job there,” she answered truthfully with an innocent shrug.

“Was it still your job when you and your colleagues invited us the see the World-Cup Semi Final on the Big Screen at what’s his name’s house?” he rallied back in good fun, tempting her into that soft chuckle of hers again.

“Thàt was not,” she confessed, “but I’m very pleased you all enjoyed that evening.”

“We most certainly did,” a pause, “I know _I_ did,” he couldn’t resist emphasizing that.

“Even though your country lost to mine?” she teased.

“Even though my country lost to yours,” he grinned in good humour.

 

Noting her fascination with the building, Tom kindly enlightened Charlotte on the history and architecture of the Globe Theatre. His enthusiasm was clear and enthralling to her,- and she found herself - very quickly - enjoying his company again. But that came as no surprise to her. When the lights flickered, announcing the end of intermission, they chuckled in unison at the realisation they had chatted through the interval without even setting one foot outside of the box.

 

His kind query on whether or not Charlotte would allow him to sit next by her side for the second part of the play, was easily answered.  
As he took a seat right next to her, he hesitated for a slight second, “Are you…. ”

“Yes?” she urged.

“I know you’re not a native speaker, and … this ìs Shakespeare,” he chuckled,  “are you able to follow?”

Charlotte playfully cocked her right brow, before reciting :

_O, reason not the need! Our basest beggars_

_Are in the poorest thing superfluous._

_Allow not nature more than nature need._

_Man’s life is cheap as beast’s._

 

A hearty laugh escaped his lips before her excused himself for even daring to think the opposite of her. Charlotte blushed as she credited her mother matter-of-factly. In his mind Tom was pleased to take note that she wasn’t just charming and kind, her intelligence might just give him a run for his money .

**2.  
**Through the second part both him and her were entranced within the world of King Lear. Only once was his attention brought back to her, when he noticed Charlotte discretely wiped a tear out of the corner of her eye. His gaze drooped down to the hand that lay in her lap and he wondered if he should – just momentarily - place his hand over hersor would she consider that inappropriate? He opted to do so anyway. The palm of his hand rested on the back of her hand, the tips of his long fingers softly caressing the soft cobalt-blue textile in the process. He had admired her and her dress the moment she’d walked over to him yet didn’t feel comfortable enough to compliment her on it. Tom was rewarded with her surprised smile and – he guessed - a hint of a blush. His thumb tenderly stroked the back of her hand, his fingertips curled along hers, gently drawing them in for a soft squeeze before both parties retreated.

 

All first dates should be held in a theatre, he mused, in surroundings that demanded soft touches and silent whispers. Where you were perfectly allowed, even expected to lean in close to show consideration to your date and, at the same time, were able to subtly take note of each other’s behaviour both consciously and subconsciously. The way she smells, the way she smiles, discovering what moves her and what shocks her, … but this wasn’t a first date now was it?

 

It was around the end of the play when Charlotte softly placed her hand on his arm. Tom gladly and curiously leant her his ear.

“Where’s Edmund?” she whispered.

“Who?”

“Edmund,” she emphasized, before adding with clear hesitation, “the son of the Count?”

“That’s Edgar, love,” a soft smile crept across his lips, happy to be of assistance.

“Oh,” was all that escaped her lips before she moved away in silence, but still in complete disarray.

“He’s in disguise in this scene. The one they call Tom of Bedlam,” Tom leaned close as he subtly pointed towards the actor on stage, “there.”

“Oooh yes,” she apologized, “sorry about that.”

“That’s alright,” he whispered in her ear with a soft smile.

 

She smelled of jasmine, musk and a touch of vanilla.

 

 **3.**  
When the applause had died down at the end of the play, after asking whether or not she had enjoyed the play, _yet again,_ Charlotte had confessed to Tom that she, in fact, did lose track somewhere around the end. But her knowledge of the story was enough to guide her on. Somewhat. They shared an amused smile.

Charlotte followed his lead as Tom graciously guided her out into the hallway. She observed him exchanging pleasantries with plenty familiar faces that were unknown to her. Not that this would come as a surprise. Charlotte was the odd one out here, in this environment. She moved in different circles than Tom. 

She felt herself fade into the background but was all the more flattered when she unexpectedly heard Tom whisper quietly into her ear if she - perhaps - wanted to go out for drinks. With him. Together.

_Oh yes, gladly._

They had barely set foot outside when some fans had caught wind of his presence. A group of young women had laid eyes upon Tom, yet Charlotte’s presence seemed to have gone by unnoticed. For which she was thankful. Charlotte observed the group making their way towards their favourite actor - curious for his review of the play, secretly hoping for a selfie or an autograph, a handshake or perhaps a kiss on the cheek.

Tom withdrew his hand that rested on the small of her back and swiftly locked eyes with her. “I am sò sorry,” he apologized in advance.

“That’s alright, duty calls. I completely understand,” Charlotte shook her head, adamant to make clear she wouldn’t expect anything less from a public persona such as him to want to make some time for his admirers.

 

Truth be told, Charlotte had been quite surprised to run into this fine man again. Pleasantly surprised, let that be clear. But now that she was out of the comfort zone of the Theatre, where your interaction was per definition restricted to silence and maybe a stolen whisper here or there, she now became very aware of the fact that her mind was in turmoil as to how she ought to compose herself around him. So there she stood, right next to him, suddenly a bit tongue-tied, a bit apprehensive. It was a blessing and a curse at the same time.

How oddly conflicting, she thought. About 10 days ago she had thoroughly enjoyed his company. And as it became apparent back then, the feeling was mutual. They were both mature enough to quickly express to one another that ‘the incident’ that ensued later that night was a silly, yet quite pleasurable, occurrence. And though Charlotte couldn’t speak for him, shé had moved along just nicely … up until the point those blue eyes looked into hers again earlier this evening. And when Tom had thoughtfully placed his hand on hers earlier that night, something inside of her stirred. Little sparks of electricity.

 

 _My god, I’ve been on the road alone for too long_ , she’d cursed to herself.

 

“Thank you for a lovely evening,” Charlotte added swiftly as she was certain that he would surely take this opportunity to end his evening with her.

“No,” he stood corrected, much to her surprise, “don’t leave just yet.”

Tom continued with a quickly spoken whisper, “would you be willing to take a taxi and ask the driver to drop you off at ‘The last call’?” he paused, “I will find you.”

It sounded like a promise. Charlotte chuckled and rolled her eyes, questioning whether he was at all serious. Apparently he was. And he did find her at ‘the last call’, an establishment that looked like a plain brown pub but in fact disclosed quite a picturesque garden.

She opted to sit at the very end of the garden, far away from the door opening where waiters rushed to and fro as they waited on the clientele. It was also the perfect place to offer her an almost panoramic view over the terrace and allowing her to spot his silhouette promenading down to where she was.

He stood tall and elegant as he strolled down casually. It was as if in the last half hour a cloak had fallen from his shoulders and suddenly the Tom she’d gotten to know earlier that month emerged again. It immediately eased her mind.

And when Tom slid onto the chair right across hers, Charlotte could no longer hide her amusement.

“This is all very MI6, I must confess,” she shook her tilted head. Her eyes sparkled in good humour, triggering a chuckle from him.

“I know,” he gestured, “and I apologize once more. Thank you for obliging with me. It’s not really my style to order people around.”

He ordered an Old Fashioned and huddled over it when he confessed he truly was delighted to see her again. She smiled and returned the compliment.

It wasn’t a lie.

**4.**  
London had been groaning under a heat wave for days now. Even at night the temperatures didn’t really drop as long as one would. Like Tom, Charlotte craved for the crisp fresh air. Leaving ‘The Last Call’ they aimlessly wandered about in London, until stumbling across Hyde Park and the Kensington Gardens where a plethora of trees provided cool and fresh air.

Tom pulled the cap of his hoodie over his head tucking his gorgeous curls away. He flashed her a broad and hearty smile as he did just that. That smile melted her, time and time again. That hoodie however… She raised one eyebrow before shaking her head under a soft chuckle, “it’s probably about 21°C in the middle of the night. If I were you I’d be melting…”

 

“… so all of this because you took on a case that stirred up national interest?” Tom continued his questioning. He was curious, intrigued and interested.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips.

“I take it this is not what you wanted then?”

Charlotte vehemently shook her head, “not really no. The case, yes. The attention, no. I feel there is a sense of privacy and serenity that has to be respected in these situations. It shouldn’t matter who the requesting party is. At the end of the day we’re all flesh and blood, aren’t we?”

“Still, you did choose to step into the limelight…” He didn’t mean it in a harsh or hurtful way. It was a mere realisation 

“True,” she paused, “but only because I felt I did not have a choice anymore. There was so much slander coming at me, I hàd to stand up and speak up. Do you know what I mean?” she frowned and shook her head, “of course you know what I mean…”

He nodded while his lips curved themselves into a small smile, “But apparently you struck a nerve with the public.”

“It would appear so…”

 

It still left Charlotte astounded how the public had reacted to her first public interview. There was still some defamation to her address, but suddenly the sensitive topic was out in the open and it got people talking. And not necessarily in a negative way. The public craved for information and suddenly Charlotte’s work and vision became a point of interest. Before she realised it she was invited at several international conferences to debate about end-of-life decisions and assistance and to share her experiences. It was mind-boggling, flattering and scary.

Her father was beyond proud. The partners at her firm were very positive and encouraged her to accept the invitations that were being extended to her, and to engage in the offers that were being made to her. Besides, it wasn’t as if she had a partner or family of her own that demanded her presence back home. In all fairness, after ‘separating’ from her husband the previous year Charlotte had easily slipped into her own little comfort zone. Any friend of her could (and would) vouch that Charlotte was outgoing and spontaneous, empathic and enthusiastic. But she had kept her heart locked. Much to the frustration of her closest friends. Maybe that was the final trigger that urged Charlotte to embrace this sudden unknown path that stretched before her with her arms open wide, but with quite some trepidation.

 

“And here you are,” Tom added quietly. It almost sounded redundant. 

“Here I am,…”

Tom’s eyes met hers again. He nodded with a soft smile.

“I’m glad you are. Here.”

Charlotte smiled, feeling her apprehension rise at the sudden silence in the conversation.

_Start talking._

_Start talking. Now._

_Any minute now._

 

“And I’m flattered beyond words for this opportunity really, it’s quite surreal. But it feels right. As if I’m doing something that matters, you know?” she nervously babbled on until she caught Tom, standing still next to her, smiling at her absent-mindedly.

“I’m sorry,” she shook her head with a smile, “we ought to talk about more pleasant things,”

“Don’t be. You’re passionate about your work. I like that.”

“What are _you_ working on?” she insisted

“Nothing,” he answered truthfully.

“Sounds wonderful,” she couldn’t resist a good tease .

“It is though,” he chuckled, “there’s no one monopolising my schedule, so for once I have ‘the gift of time’, to catch up with family, friends. That was long overdue to be honest. Reading books, slowly going through some scripts,”

“Want to trade places with me for a day?”

He dropped his head back and lead out a hearty laugh.

 

Their conversation ran without effort, alternating small talk, an in-depth discussion, trivial jokes and random thoughts. Time seemed to fly by. One loop in the park was followed by another, and another, and another. Until…

“Well, this is my stop,” Charlotte pointed towards the hotel across the park, “I should head back. Get some sleep.”

“Right, you’re speaking at the Conference tomorrow. I think?”

Charlotte sighed, “don’t remind me…”

“You’ll be fine,” he assured her.

She nodded quietly, “I hope so.”

“Shall I walk you up?”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good plan, I know you like your privacy. I’ll just cross the street myself, leave you in the mystery of the park,”

She slanted her head, “so thank you for a wonderful evening. It was nice seeing you again.”

“Likewise, it was erm.. _nice_ catching up with you. For lack of a better word.”

 

As Charlotte bid him farewell she felt unsure on how she should behave. She settled for a casual kiss on the cheek, which he kindly returned. His arms closed around to hold her in a tender hug, a gesture she gladly accepted. Her hand unconcernedly ran over his back in a reassuring caress. He smelled of some expensive citrusy cologne. His scent was dizzying, his embrace heart-warming that had Charlotte biting her lip out of remorse for not being able to keep him there longer.

_Say good night, not goodbye._

“Good night Tom,” she murmured into his arms.

"Good night Charlotte,” he replied into her soft hair, the scent of her flowery shampoo sending his mind into a trip down memory lane. As he released her from his hug, he held on to her hand a little while longer, giving it a soft squeeze before wishing her a pleasant night as she made her leave

“Charlotte?”

“Yeah?” she spun around curiously.

“Good luck tomorrow…”

A warm smile, “thank you.”

 

A gust of wind swept up her long hair; she tucked the loose strands behind her ear before checking traffic. He watched her a little while longer as she made her way across the road towards her hotel and out of his life. Intelligent, grounded, feminine. He smiled. Never in a million years would he have guessed how bittersweet this very moment could make him feel.

 

 _Silly me_ , he cursed himself, _I’ve been on the road alone for too long…_

 


	3. Chapter two : Flashback to Day One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two - a flashback to their first encounter. Enjoy gentleman!Tom or ... tipsy!Tom. 
> 
> * Feedback always (and very much) appreciated. ;-) 
> 
> * Bonus : there is an pinterest moodboard (which I keep updated with each chapter that rolls along)  
> \--> https://www.pinterest.co.uk/theheartofpenelope
> 
> * You can also follow me (and this story) on tumblr (link on my dashboard)
> 
> * Also, this is not beta’d. So forgive me for any typo's and whatnot...

 

**Chapter 2**

**Flashback to eleven days ago**

It had been eleven days ago, when they had enjoyed an incredibly pleasant evening together. It was quite silly really, an unexpected turn of events. You know, in the way life suddenly decides to sneak up on you and turn order into chaos. Just for the sake of it. So yes, ‘unforeseen’ would be the word for it. But the term ‘fun’ comes to mind as well or entertaining, liberating and carefree.

It all started when Tom attended ComiCon with some fellow actors. And that is where he had first run into her. Or better yet, the other way around. She was called in to settle a particular edgy paparazzi-situation Tom and his colleagues had involuntarily found themselves in.

She didn’t really stand out between the crew. She stood at an average height of 5’7 and was dressed smart in a simple, yet elegant, tailored sleeveless navy jumpsuit with a pair of open toe shoes to match. Her chestnut locks were pulled up in a messy bun.

She had handled the predicament with grace and a smile that instantly made you overlook the mean streak lingering in her stern repartee. She had dismantled the proverbial bomb with ease and humour that had left Tom enchanted. So much so that he found himself walking up to her when he’d laid eyes upon her again. He felt the need to express his gratitude, which she had waved off straightway, stating she was ‘only doing her job’.

And so their respective lonely paths had crossed for the first time that summer. After a sincere smile and the expression of appreciation on his part came the introduction to their real selves, a joke was told, an anecdote shared and ultimately a farewell exchanged. As you do.

 

She was easy on the eyes he would have to admit as we walked away after that first encounter. She was a very straightforward professional but next he had come to discover she possessed a captivating persona. As unyielding as she had handled the trespassing ‘journalist’, so warm and bright was her smile when she thanked Tom for his simple act of kindness towards her.

Consequently, when he found out later on that she was desperate for tickets to the Globe Theatre, he had taken it upon himself to set his publicist on the task at hand. Because he somehow found it was the least he could do. He was _“British that way”_ , he had joked to her when he informed her on his gift to her...

 

He was only scheduled for 2 separate appearances at ComiCon on two consecutive days. But on the rare occasion they had been in each other’s vicinity at ComiCon, they’d always exchanged a - short but - pleasant word. Right up until the last night….

The World Cup Soccer Tournament was coming to a close and the entire country was in a cheerful state due to their country’s unexpected winning streak. That particular night was they were playing the Semi-Final against England. Tom and some of his soccer-minded colleagues did not hesitate to accept the generous invitation to watch said Semi-Final on a big screen one of the ComiCon organisers had set up in his backyard.

The promise of watching the Semi-Final in privacy with drinks, BBQ, home prepared salads and dessert was a prospect Tom absolutely did not want to turn down. After living out of his bag for so long, this kind of homely invitation was virtually a no-brainer. Also, _England_ was playing the Fifa Semi Finals! As a proud Brit you do _not_ refuse an offer like this, even if you are quite possibly entering the lion’s den.

 

It had been a pleasant surprise that she was attending the evening as well. She was all dressed down in summery attire, her auburn locks now pulled up in a high ponytail to defy the summer heat and the country’s tricolour haphazardly applied on her cheek by an enthusiastic friend. She was all smiles and relaxed. Her name was Charlotte.

_Finally; a name to put by her attractive appearance._

 

The nervous happy atmosphere surrounding the World Cup had rubbed off on all spectators and promptly switched into outright excitement when the referee whistled the end of the match. Charlotte, the self-acclaimed ‘not-the-greatest-soccer-fan’, had literally dropped whatever she’d been doing during those final minutes of the match and cheered out heart and soul with the rest of the locals at their country’s victory. It was _quite_ the sight. Tom, though disappointed at heart at his country’s loss, could only grin at Charlotte’s enthusiastic outburst when their eyes briefly met.

Yes, England had lost the game – _agonisingly_ so - but the spectacle of so much joy quickly made Tom and his friends partake in the erupting celebrations nonetheless. The entire city seemed to burst into much anticipated, yet unexpected, festivities. Alcohol flowed freely, the music was cranked up and amateur fireworks were lit. On the big screen images flashed by of impromptu parties that made it to the streets where people bonded, laughed and danced. And kissed.

_My god, did they kiss…_

 

In that stupendous garden at the riverside, a party had started on its own. And true to form, Tom had danced with several women in the course of the evening. He couldn’t help it. He was _“British that way”_ , he’d joked. Yet again. It was no exception that he would dance with Charlotte as well at some point.

It was just silly laughter at first and an improvised dance. She danced quite well. He liked that. She humorously called him out on re-using his silly joke. _"So much for originality Mr. Hiddleston. Is that how it works? Only eloquent when the lines have been fed to you?"_ He quirked an eyebrow and spun her around as a silly retaliation. Again. And again. And again. Only to hear her giggle louder and louder, until she had admitted her defeat and dizzily clung to his chest. He chortled at the sight and his inner tennis geek surfaced; _"fifteen- love."  
(ed. in tennis, love means having a score of zero or nil.) _

It was the beginning of the end.

They did not break away from each other after that dance. Tom came to discover Charlotte was a great conversationalist and repeatedly caught himself mistaking her for a native speaker as they delved into a mishmash of subjects, albeit slightly intoxicated at one point. Looking back, he might regret some of his tipsy comments, but he did not regret that kiss…

Maybe it was the atmosphere at the riverside, where the music softly faded to the background and the dark night complemented the magic of fading fireworks. Maybe it was the slightly philosophical twist their conversation had been taking. Or maybe it was just the effect of copious gin-tonic, but he could swear there was this magnetic pull that he found he could not resist.

 

With the fireworks officially rounded up, all the guests slowly started making their way from the waterside back to the patio. Once their own gin-tonics were finished Charlotte suggested following the others and leaving the pier she and Tom had been lounging on. Tom, quick on his feet, offered her his hand as Charlotte made an attempt to rise herself up from the wooden platform. With a smile she accepted his gentleman-like offer.  
The softest summer wind graciously blew a hint of her perfume into his direction. That wasn’t helping him much either. On the contrary. As she stood before him her soft fragrance of white musk and jasmine was merely the last drop. Her hands rested in his a little while longer while she came to balance on the gently swaying pontoon and pleasantly sighed.

The water was quietly lapping and the soft background music was sometimes drowned out by laughter of friends. It was a beautifully summery and starry night. Her dark brown eyes glistened in the moonlight as she looked back up to Tom to signal she was ready to head back now. She was greeted with his tipsy, lopsided smile. And then, there it was.

With her hands still in his, a gentle tug on his side sufficed to pull her just that little bit closer to him. He moved as if he was on autopilot. Mesmerized by the night and all it had entailed for him so far. He had kissed her softly at first, his lips just brushing against hers, as if he was just testing the waters. His one hand released hers and smoothly travelled to her cheek where it brushed some loose strands of her hair away, tucking them after her ear. A second kiss followed shortly after and this one was less tender, more vigorous, and more lustful.

Charlotte had closed her eyes and allowed herself to get swept away in that unexpected moment where Tom’s mouth claimed hers while his hands softly but surely pulled her into a very desirous embrace. It had been a long time someone had conquered her in the way he – perhaps accidently – had done. In her mind this aspect of her life had been closed off, like a finished book, or the empty jar after all the fireflies had fled. But now, somehow, it seemed as though maybe one firefly might have stuck around somewhere.

Yet, she was the first one to pull back. Her forehead resting against his as their lips left each other. Her fingertips that had carefully caressed his soft beard, slid down to his chest, keeping him both close yet at a safe distance. Wordlessly she slowly came to herself again.

She adored being cradled into his strong arms. He was tall and mesmerising, intelligent but with a dry sense of humour, he was both playful and polite, a flirt and absolutely adorable a few drinks in. And particularly that last aspect worried her the most.

Tom had immediately and solemnly apologized to her, explaining he had no hidden agenda, no pretences. It had simply caught him off guard. He was not a one-night kind of man and he swore he didn’t suspect her to be that either. It was just the night, the atmosphere, the alcohol, _her_ … Although he chose to not disclose that last remark.

 

Charlotte was well aware that all he said was in fact true. And that’s how, while Tom had wanted to ask her to keep the incidence between them, she had come to beat him to it, claiming her job demanded discretion. Which was truthful. And that perhaps ‘this’ could just remain a little secret? Between them?

She combined a coy smile with a slightly playful wink when she added she however intended to take that kiss as a compliment, if he didn’t mind that. Thàt, he most certainly did not.

Their paths had crossed one last time the following day. Charlotte was in the foyer tending to the tasks at hand. When Tom and his entourage crossed her, they exchanged a warm smile and a polite nod. And that had been that. Their paths set to disentangle, to never meet again. However, life never really listens to manmade plans now does it?


	4. Chapter three : London, day twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No. Not butterflies. Never butterflies. Fireflies! It would seem the little leftover rascal had found a friend.  
> Two little beetles together, having fun and carefully shedding some light on her forlorn heart. Their fluttering however barely noticeable - still, there they were. And they did manage to somehow manifest themselves more clearly when Charlotte finally set foot in the lobby at the established hour. 'Nasty little buggers'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Bonus : there is an pinterest moodboard (which I keep updated with each chapter that rolls along)  
> \--> https://www.pinterest.co.uk/theheartofpenelope  
> * You can also follow me (and this story) on tumblr (link on my dashboard)  
> * Also, this is not beta’d. So forgive me for any typo's and whatnot...

 

**Chapter three  
**

**London- day twelve**

  
_Oh, curse those nervous jitters_ … Charlotte looked up from the desk and scanned the spectators in the conference room.  
_They lied about those bright lights_ , she thought, _they don’t completely black out the audience_. _Damn it._

She exhaled quietly and took a drink from her glass of water while the power point-presentation was started up for her. She could do this. There was no doubt. She repeated it in her mind like a mantra. Her mind would surely come around soon, however her stomach was in knots.

_God, I have to find a way around this soon. Very soon.  
Close your eyes Charlie, take a deep breath. _

 

Charlotte would hear the spectators shuffling in their seats, the subtle buzz of people talking and flipping through their syllabi while they waited…. It was always the same story. That same petrifying and paralysing stage fright that kept on haunting her, wherever she would go. The absolute horror of getting that first sentence out there… but then, once she was past that, she would be on a roll. She knèw it. If only she could get at that point easier or faster somehow.

So Charlotte tried reminding herself some of the reassuring words friends and family had spoken to her to break her anxiety. Her brother’s “ _imagine the crowd in their kinkiest underwear!”_ never ceased to make her smirk just a little bit. But today, it was Tom’s _“you’re passionate about your work_. _You’ll be fine,”_ that suddenly echoed through her mind. It brought a slight smile to her face and gave her that much-needed boost of confidence she was looking for.

And on that high, Charlotte confidently launched her theories on medical assistance with end of life decisions from her professional yet controversial point of view. Ready to take on the world. Preferably by storm. The feedback after her presentation was larger than she had expected and made for an interested debate in the auditorium as well as captivating conversations during the ensuing lunch break.

 

When the colloquium concluded for the day, Charlotte felt both satisfied and exhausted. As she walked back to her hotel room all she really longed for was a hot bath and a good book in that pristine air-conditioned hotel room. She was however surprised at the fact that the hotel manager, while handing her back her room key, informed her a message had been left for her at the front desk.

A wave of worry rippled through her, and a monster like claw clenched itself around anxious heart. She feared at first that some emergency had occurred family-wise, but then _surely_ they would have tried calling her cell phone? They _knew_ she kept the device close to her at all times. _Surely_ , they would have rang,… wouldn’t they?

While she questioned the manager if he was absolutely sure, he spelled her name to which she could only nod affirmatively.

Maybe it was a work-related issue? An urgent case-file perhaps? _My god, please not now,_ she wished. It was as if, after the debate all energy had escaped her body.

She longed for her home, her living room, where she could curl up in her favourite nook of the sofa with a good book and some lounge music playing in the background. 

 

A large yellow manila envelope was handed to her. It weighed light in her hands. It couldn’t hold more than one page, she concluded, so hardly a professional emergency. Her mind worriedly drifted back to her family, the monster claw tightened his grip around her heart. Good news rarely came in tiny packages…

Charlotte opened the envelope in the elevator. She had no patience. It was somewhat of a problem, but on a professional level it was one of her best traits.  
On the beautiful hotel stationary a message was typed out. Apparently a phone call had come in, requesting her. The message was short and to the point, and with a sigh of relief her lips curved into a smile as her eyes scanned the narrative.

_I hope your day went well._

_You’re very kindly invited to a small gathering of people tonight._

_It’s Ben’s birthday -  so you can’t really say no._

_Meet me in the lobby at 6.30 PM._

_Dress casually; it’s an outside event._

_Greetings from Tom._

 

Her unfounded agony quickly made way for butterflies. No. Not butterflies. Never butterflies. _Fireflies!_ It would seem the little leftover rascal had found a friend. Two little beetles together, having fun and carefully shedding some light on her forlorn heart. Their fluttering however barely noticeable - still, there they were. And they did manage to somehow manifest themselves more clearly when Charlotte finally set foot in the lobby at the established hour. _Nasty little buggers_.

Her choice of attire earned her that first broad smile of his. Talk about an icebreaker.

 

“M’lady,” Tom unfolded himself from his seat and gave her a polite nod accompanied with a gentle wink.

“Good sir,” Charlotte beamed at the elegant appearance in front of her, “will this do?”

“You look lovely darling,” he kissed her on the cheek. There was that wonderful scent again. His beard softly brushed against her cheek, “I’m pleased you made it.”

“Well you didn’t exactly give me the chance to say no, did you?” she impishly reprimanded.

“It’s all Benedict really. He requested your presence for his birthday. I have nothing to do with it.”

“No, you’re just the innocent messenger,” Charlotte teased.

“Quite right,” he added with a proud nod, “we – I mean _he_ thought you might appreciate the warmth of company, rather than a lonely hotel room.”

“How very considerate of,” she paused calculatedly, “ _him_ ,”

A mischievous grin followed as he offered her his arm, “let’s go, shall we?”

 

After that successful lecture she was oozing with confidence. She felt quite bold and adventurous all of a sudden. But Charlotte also had a lousy sense of direction and once in Tom’s car she internally fretted whether this was a good idea or not. Where was she headed? Was he a good driver? The control freak in her fought for supremacy, whereas her tired mind looked forward to an evening of mystery and was more than eager to surrender herself to whatever surprises that might cross her path in the course of the evening. Charlotte wriggled in her seat and it didn’t go by unnoticed.

 

“Are you alright darling?” he queried humorously.

“Yes,” she nodded before adding with a kind-hearted laugh, “actually no. You drive on the other side of the road for starters.”

There was that second broad smile of the night.

“Also,” she puffed out a short exhale, “I’m suddenly very aware that I am putting my life in your hands here.”

He glanced over at the young woman next to him and nodded in earnest now,

“I am aware.”

“Be careful with it?” it sounded more flirtatious than she had intended. But it was immediately rewarded with a lopsided smile of his and his heartfelt word. 

“I promise that you will _not_ regret having put your trust in me…”

 

**2.  
**

When the front door swung open, it revealed a _very_ happy birthday boy. Benedict was obviously in tremendous good spirits and cheerfully he guided his guests into his home. As they exchanged pleasantries, he watched his friend guide his ‘plus one’ for the evening inside. And it occured to him then and there that it really was a delightful thing to see.

Tom had run this particular idea past Benedict earlier that day. He’d mentioned having spent the previous night out and about with Charlotte and just felt like maybe, surely, it would a fitting thing to invite her to this little get-together. ‘ _So she could spend an evening in pleasant company rather than in a lonely hotel room. You know just to reciprocate that informal BBQ-event from earlier that month’._ However, Tom was not the one throwing the party.

It had taken Benedict no consideration at all to agree with Tom’s idea. _Finally_ , he teased, _you’re bringing a ‘plus one’ for a change…_ Tom had chuckled and rolled his eyes at this. ‘ _No, no, none of that_. _She’s pleasant company, it’s the right thing to do and that was that.’_

 

But, in secret, he did look forward to spending some more time with her. Her and her warm laugh, her perceptive humour and quick wit. He wanted to know how her lecture had been, had it been well received? Was she happy about her day, what were her further plans, what was that book again she’d labelled a must-read for him the previous night… He felt as though there were more questions to ask, more stories to be shared. All purely platonic of course.

Tom still kicked himself a bit for having acted so forward earlier that month. And he was quite hesitant about meeting her again in the Theatre the night before. All ‘should he or shouldn’t he’. Should he ignore that anything had ever happened between them earlier on, or should he offer - _another_ \- apology about it? All this apprehension on his part had instantly vanished though the moment he’d set his eyes on her again in the Theatre yesterday. It had been lovely to see her again, to talk to her again. And he quickly concluded that the past was merely water under the bridge. She didn’t seem to be hung-up on it. So neither should he. He was only hung up on her. But… pure platonically. Of course.

 

Because Tom was far too rational to believe in silly, trivial things such as love at first sight. His mind didn’t deem it possible. You just cànnot fall in love with someone you don’t know. However he _did_ accept there was something like ‘lust at first sight’. And that had to be what it was. It was the only explanation for what had occurred twelve days ago. That and alcohol. After all, the facts _were_ the facts. He’d spend weeks on end travelling around the globe, suffering jet lag after jet lag, answering all the same questions all over again. (Although creatively repackaged by every single interviewer or talk show host, bless them.)

And while it was unquestionably exciting to launch the new movie, beyond pleasing to finally be able to reward all fans for their relentless support and anxiously await their reactions, at the end of the day - in whatever time zone he was residing-  Tom was exhausted, lonesome and yearning for _home_ , his home, his dog, his family. Full stop.

That night at ComiCon was the early prelude to his 8 week-hiatus. He’d let go of everything and was enchanted with conversations that for once did not centre around his work. He might have had a gin tonic too many, that was true. But he did enjoy the fact his mind was allowed to roam free for a while. Charlotte had asked the right questions, said the right things, she was a breath of fresh air and he –foolishly- took it. 

 

Tom snapped out of his thoughts when he’d heard Benedict mentioning his wife Sophie was just putting their 2 children to bed. A pang of remorse went through him; there was an anecdote he had promised to share with them that evening and now it was too late. His remorse must have been showing, because Benedict was quick to suggest Tom could – if he wanted to - just run up _very-very_ quickly to say goodnight and share whatever his kids had been going on and on about that afternoon. _Just don’t wind them up too much,_ Benedict warned in a true paternal style.

Though relieved, Tom’s attention momentarily drifted back to Charlotte. He couldn’t just leave her there all alone, now could he? That would be bad form on him towards his ‘plus one’. But Benedict – bless his heart – had already quipped that he would make sure to introduce Charlotte to the rest of the group in the meantime. He’d offered her his arm, which she did not hesitate to accept, and with a soft chuckle Charlotte urged Tom to go ahead and visit the children before Benedict galantly led her the way to the garden. 

 

**3.**

The sight immediately took Charlotte’s breath away. The heat in London was unbearable. Even at night the temperatures hardly dropped. The sight of a peaceful garden party under a canopy of trees brought joy to her heart. Forget that bath and that book. Air-conditioning or not. Here a person could breathe and come back to earth again…

 

The guests consisted of a small group of people, mostly Benedict’s closest friends from college days. And as promised, Charlotte was kindly introduced to the group, who was very welcoming towards her.  
She was seated on a picnic bench at a picture perfect table. A genuine and spontaneous debate ensued when Charlotte answered toward the reason of her stay in the city. Frankly, she’d gotten quite used to the level of controversy end of life-matters created and she readily met all opinions that bounced onto her - both pro and contra her reasoning - with diplomacy, tact and humour.

 

She wasn’t aware of Tom’s return until she felt his hand softly resting against her shoulder blade.  
“I see you’re blending in well,” he whispered softly as he took the seat to her side.

“Kids went too sleep alright?” Benedict queried as he sweetly placed a kiss on his wife’s lips as she momentarily rested against the armrest of his chair.

“Perfect,” Sophie replied, “Uncle Tom apparently reads the best bedtime-stories,”

“I made a promise,” a timid laugh on his behalf, “and I don’t like to break my promises.”

“Hmm, I’m amazed no one has made you a godfather yet,” Benedict’s wife pondered quietly.

“Well, maybe now’s a better time than ever?” Benedict chuckled as he placed his hand on his wife’s stomach, “after this perfect birthday present ever.”

 

The table went dead quiet as the news of the pregnancy slowly sank in. If Charlotte hadn’t felt out of place before, she sure felt like it now. Within seconds congratulations were up in the air, friends kissed and hugged the expecting couple while a very confused yet proud Tom solemnly swore to take his duty as godfather _very_ seriously.

Charlotte evidently made a point of congratulating both parents before turning to her side to extend her heartfelt wishes to a visibly affected Tom. Without thinking she enthusiastically planted a sweet kiss onto his cheek. She was the first and only one who did.  
It flattered him. It graced her.

 

The announcement was the joyous prelude of what turned out to be an easy-going and quite entertaining evening. Charlotte was delighted at how the friendliness of the company quickly enclosed her, how they were mindful of her in conversations and elaborated on some background details so she would be able to follow. Her eyes had darted from the group of friends to Tom on occasion. She particularly enjoyed how at times his words could make her feel as though she was the only one he was talking to.

She was introduced to some silly British party games and laughed profusely when the moment came for the real birthday celebration. Tom kindly narrated the usual order of their silly ritual and Charlotte rested her hand on his arm when she was stuck in a fit of giggles because of it.

Tom was thoughtful and attentive. At the slightest shiver he had draped his jacket over her shoulders before he offered to fetch the pashmina she’d left in his car.

Their interaction had a familiar feel to it. It just … worked. If she would have to put it into words, she would probably confess that he made her feel welcome and appreciated. She honestly never would have put any more rational thought into it. That is until Benedict’s wife struck up a conversation with her while Tom had sauntered off in search of Charlotte’s scarf.

 

The brunette leaned in a bit closer from across the table and exchanged a kind smile with Charlotte. 

“I see Tom’s taking good care of you,”

Linguistically it was a simple observation, but everybody knows that in between women a lot can be said through simple observations. Perhaps even more than we hold dearly.

“Yes, he’s very considerate,” Charlotte agreed, after all it was true.

“How long have you two been seeing each other?”

A loud cackle escaped from Charlotte’s throat. She wasn’t even aware she _could_ cackle. She feverishly giggled the comment away, and hoped she didn’t turn beet red in the process.

“No, no,” she shook her head, “believe me, no dates here… I’m just a ‘plus one’ for the evening – a pity invite if you will.”

But the expecting brunette simply smiled encouragingly under a knowing nod and continued as if Charlotte had never protested against her question.

“Men like these are hard to come by…”

It was a beautiful and very fitting compliment towards Tom. He earned all credit in that department. He was handsome but not the in-your-face kind of way, he was attentive but also deliciously masculine. He was intelligent and hilariously funny when he wanted to be. And, though tipsy, he had proven to being a great kisser… Ok, ok, so he would be a catch. But Charlotte wasn’t really looking for anything. Right? _Right_.

”Believe me, Charlotte,” she nudged, “I know.”

She caught Sophie secretively and not so secretively rewarding her doting husband with a wink. A testament of a deep and true love, it warmed Charlotte’s heart.

**4.**

If she had to be honest, Sophie’s words _did_ resonate with her. Charlotte excused herself to go to the restroom, while in fact she just wanted to get away from the conversation. She let the cold water run over her wrists, checked her make-up in the mirror and sighed. Charlotte had wanted to blame the alcohol for giving someone courage to blurt out such a fictitious statement, but Sophie was undeniable sober because _hello - pregnant?_

Charlotte’s inner control freak had allowed her only one glass of champagne so she was indisputably lucid enough to see things for what they were. Her tireless mind kindly reminded her Tom hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since his first and only glass of champagne, being the designated driver and all.

As Charlotte’s mind quickly recapped it concluded that Tom was just being charming and chivalrous. So definitely-maybe pregnancy hormones were plaguing Sophie. And possibly she was just joking, after all how good did Charlotte really know her?

But more, much more than this Charlotte was astonished why she was even given this silly remark so much thought. Why was she getting worked up over this? After all, she was going home the following day _._ She would never see Tom - or anyone else for that matter - again after this evening. As the realisation hit, her stomach dropped a bit.

 

Charlotte scolded herself and commanded herself to stop being so pubertal about it. Still deep in thought she strolled back out onto the patio, taking a moment to admire the scenery. A couple of women sat chatting at the table, in the backyard a small group of friends were quarrelling over a game of Kubb. It really was a lovely evening, she mused, and she owed it to herself to enjoy it more profusely.

"Hi,” his accustomed voice rang into her ear.

With a smile Charlotte greeted Tom as he walked out of the house himself, “hi.”

“Found it,” he held up her pashmina proudly as he walked up to her. He was tall; it made her thankful she’d opted to wear a reasonable height in pumps…

“You look good,” Charlotte pondered.

 

_Shit. Was that out loud?_

“Better rested, I mean. You look… better rested.” Charlotte hastened to add and stumbled over her words. She laughed and shook her head; her hand carefully rubbing her forehead in the process, “oh I’m tripping over my words tonight, aren’t I?”

“You’re tired,” Tom concluded amused.

“I am,” she agreed, “I think I have more understanding for you and your travelling ways now. It seems so glamorous from afar, but …”

“It does get under your skin, doesn’t it?”

She nodded with a smile, “hmm.”

“Allow me,” he offered. And though Charlotte chuckled and mentioned it was fine, Tom remained adamant in his intent to drape the refined accessory over her shoulders.

_Perfect gentleman, see Sophie? A mere perfect gentleman._

 

“I can’t get over how beautiful this place is,” Charlotte mentioned while he dutifully unfolded the silky scarf, “such a quiet green oasis in the midst of the madness.”

“Mmm, it’s quite something, isn’t it? Sophie really has a knack for design and decorating… ” he added while frowning over which side was in and wish side was out.

“Thanks for bringing me here,” Charlotte smiled at the sight of Tom stubbornly struggling along, “that was very considerate of you. Thank you.”  
A humorous sigh escaped Charlotte’s lips and she shook her head in comical despair  “I keep repeating myself.”

“You do,” he answered softly, locking his eyes with hers momentarily, “but I don’t mind repeating you’re very welcome.”

He turned the pashmina in his hands around proudly, “I think I’ve got in now…”  
and with that draped it around her and over her shoulders.

 

Charlotte enjoyed the languid rhythm of their conversation. It contrasted so marvellously towards the hectic day that had left her drained. And the entertaining festivities in the evening had allowed her to release all the built-up adrenaline. Fatigue fell over her like a soft blanket and she supressed a yawn but held a chuckle when she saw him bunching up the material as he tried out some type of elegant knot. Her hands clasped over his, “no, no, not like that, no knots…”

“Christ I’m helpless at this, I’m afraid,” he admitted with a sigh as his eyes briefly locked with hers.  
“But such a beautiful summer night, isn’t it? Festivities, music in the air,"  he continued and gestured towards her, "pleasant company, …”

Charlotte’s mind short circuited for a moment when she caught him looking at her again. With sympathy. His look was honest and warm, his eyes mesmerizingly blue. She saw his tongue quickly dart over his lips as he breathed in, ready to speak on.

And though her heart thundered in her chest, she didn’t feel any warmer. Not one bit. Quite the contrary. An observable shiver ran across her spine.

 _  
_ “Are you all right darling? Are you cold, still?” Tom questioned apprehensively.

Charlotte - grateful for the diversion that allowed her to tear her eyes away from Tom at long last - shook her head, hoping it would chase away this sudden cloud of confusion that had started to enclose her. She pulled the pashmina higher and tighter over her shoulders, wishing she could curl up and hide in it altogether.

“No, just tired. I get cold when I’m tired,” she tilted her head, “It’s erm – it’s been a long day.”

“Oh! Right,” he remembered, his right hand flying to his head at his silly neglect.

“And I have a breakfast meeting tomorrow, …”

“Surely, no talks about death over breakfast already?”

“Well... yes. Basically,” Charlotte smiled apprehensively, “we’re a fun group, I tell you.”

“Shall I take you back to your hotel?” he voiced his concern.

“No, no, I don’t want to impose, I could get a taxi just as well…”

“I’ll have none of that,”

“I know, but I’m fine.”

“Even if you did - and you are most definitely _not_ -” he interrupted her kindly, “I’d happy to oblige nonetheless. C’mon, let’s go.”  
  
And with that he ran his warm hand up and down her spine reassuringly, an effort to bring her warmth... but Charlotte only shivered once more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Feedback always (and very much) appreciated. I would love to know what you think! ;-)


	5. Chapter four : London, early day thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **excerpt -**  
>  It's true what they say, 'touch has a memory'. It came flooding through her when her fingertips traced his beard and lost their way in his generous curls. It steered her to a blissful state when she felt his hand stroking her cheek before his lips adoringly pressed onto hers again and she prayed he would not leave them soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Bonus : there is an pinterest moodboard (which I keep updated with each chapter that rolls along)  
> \--> https://www.pinterest.co.uk/theheartofpenelope  
> * You can also follow me (and this story) on tumblr (link on my dashboard)  
> * Also, this is not beta’d. So forgive me for any typo's and whatnot...

 

**Chapter four  
**

**London –** **_early_ ** **day thirteen**

 

**1.**

It was already a few hours past midnight when Charlotte set foot into her hotel room again. Her initial contentment at the start of the evening was now well replaced with some sort of remorse. And the worst part was she was completely unable to explain or detect the reason for her sorrow.

She had just spend a most wonderful evening at a gorgeous garden party, talking to and laughing with very kind people. She’d been a guest that had been well looked after. She had no reason whatsoever to feel downhearted. None. It had been a perfect evening, but there had been a slight sting was in the tail.

Charlotte dropped her clutch on the writing desk with a sigh. She’d enjoyed the hospitality of the hosting couple, she had fun partaking in the pleasant antics of the tight-knit group of friends and - all right, all right - indulged some stolen glances, gentle touches and a bit of subtle flirting towards the end. But all in good fun. Nothing serious.

On autopilot Charlotte switched her mobile on flight-mode before dropping it on the table next to her purse. Her mobile, that now contained Tom’s number. Another sigh escaped her lips.

_Oh Sophie, why though? And why did you have pinpoint my interaction with Tom. As if it was something more than what it really was._

 

Like a true gentleman Tom had chauffeured her back to her hotel. But in the car nothing of substance was spoken anymore. Worse, there were unspoken words left in between the both of them, the couple that carpooled along might have had something to do with that perhaps…  He’d parked the car up front and shut off the engine. He was an attentive escort, that was certain. He confided that he had spent a lovely evening and hoped she had as well, when the couple in the backseat gleefully chirped in to wish Charlotte a good night and successful tour. So there you have it….

Despite the heatwave, Charlotte shivered all over once more. She couldn’t warm up for the life of her. What was up with _that_ ? Tom had been nothing but sweet and attentive. And she? She’d frozen. Quite literally. Her mind was beyond tired, her emotions all thrown in a loop for reasons she could not comprehend. But Charlotte did regret ending the evening in the way she’d done.  
_Oh well, water under the bridge right?_

_So long, Farewell, Auf Wiedersehen, Adieu…  
Much cuter when the Von Trapp-kids sing it, though… _

 

Charlotte idly stripped down and stepped into the sleek shower where the hot water instantaneously rinsed away all sorrow and managed to warm her up again. She brushed her teeth and gazed into her own tired eyes through the fogged-up mirror.

_Silly girl._

She slid into a summery pyjama-set, consisting of nothing more than a delicate camisole-top and matching shorts and crawled under the soft white sheets. Closing her eyes and ready to retire for the night, she thought she heard someone knock on her door. Charlotte frowned and checked the clock… _at this hour?_

“Yes?” she croaked.

“It’s me…”

The voice was soft, low and half what muffled. Charlotte would recognize that voice anywhere, but that couldn’t be - could it?

**2.  
**Charlotte hastily threw on a cardigan to cover herself up somewhat as she curiously padded towards the door. And indeed, there he was as she swung the door open. He stood there, gazing at his feet before looking up to her.

She wasn’t quite sure how to react, only furrowed her brows and quietly ushered him inside. She wanted to ask if everything was all right, if he’d forgotten anything. Surely she had returned his jacket, didn’t she?  
  
But he beat her to it. The moment the door clicked shut, a sigh escaped his lips before he started talking.

“Ever since,” Tom paused upon exhaling loudly, “I mean - I’m fine. I’ve been _fine_. I àm doing just. Fine…. And then I see you. And I talk to you. And I … ” he lingered and she could see him gently clasping his fist by his side.

“… and I don’t quite remember what it is I should do next,” Charlotte whispered to herself, as she leant against the door.

“It’s probably utterly idiotic that I am standing here. Now. But I felt that I could not let you leave before I told you this. I just - I need to get it out of my system and I guess I hope that by saying it out loud, the power of it might go off,” he hesitated for a second, “or maybe it won’t – I haven’t figured that part out yet.”

“There is this …. gravitational pull about you,” his hands gestured it so beautifully and, if it were physically possible, Charlotte was certain her heart would have jumped out of her chest at this confession. But she was lost for words.

“It’s hard to resist really,” his eyes lowered towards to his feet again “and believe me, I’ve tried…”

Charlotte didn't quite know what to do with herself anymore. Because _this_ was not in the plans. She was meant to be out cementing her career. She couldn't afford to lose her focus to matters of the heart. She knew better than that; she’d followed that path before and look what good it had brought her. If anything, Charlotte was now adamant to start loving _herself_ first, putting _herself_ first, creating peace in _her_ mind first.

Looking back she could see she’d come a long way. She had her own place, decorated to her liking. She ran her own office, organised to her wishes.

Her mind however was not at ease. Not anymore. So she picked up yoga first, then pilates. But to no avail. Charlotte figured it just came with the territory. Something she ought to learn how to live with.

Curling up with a good book in the safehaven that her house had become, did make a lot of things easier to bare. But there was room for improvement still. What she was clueless on, however, was on what she might be lacking.

And then _he_ had to walk in her life and be all perfect and charming, even while adorably tipsy. Sweep her off her feet and disappear. And that part was all right, strangely enough. He'd woken her from a slumber she never realised she was in. And for that she was strangely grateful to him.

But then he would reappear when she had least expected him to. Ever perfect, ever charming, so considerate. It pained her that he could bestow so much empathy and understanding towards her, which she feared she could not ever reciprocate… That part of her was broken, jaded even, safely kept away under lock and key.

“I have been fighting it but now, tonight,” he confessed, “I catch myself wondering what it is exactly that I am fighting for? And it seems I am incapable of finding a valid reason. Or any reason for that matter.”

It was too warm for a cardigan; in fact the piece of clothing kept Charlotte’s body more than warm. To the point it just might get uncomfortably hot. Still Charlotte broke into goosebumps again and lots of them.

Her heart thundered even harder in her chest when she laid eyes on him again. Truthfully, he was not hard to look at either, which made it all worse really. So many good traits that kept her from raising her voice to chase him out.

She’d felt safe in this cool minimalistic cell she'd designed for herself, she really could do without any company. But then he had to cross her path. All calm, polite and amiable. And she had no idea how, but there he was. Now. In her room. Saying all these things she couldn’t wrap her mind around...

“Have you been mulling this over this whole time?” Charlotte finally questioned carefully. After all, quite some time had passed since he had dropped her off at her hotel.

“I confess I’ve had to drink in some courage,” he wrinkled his nose in humoristic defeat.

“Courage?”

“Yes, courage,” he murmured, “for this.” And on that note he stepped in closer to her and, before Charlotte could form a complete thought, she felt his hand slide into her hair as his lips unceremoniously brushed against hers. Unknowingly he’d had her teetering on that fine line between composure and surrender, but now - with his lips on hers, she was well lost.

It's true what they say, 'touch has a memory'. It came flooding through her when her fingertips traced his beard and lost their way in his generous curls.

It steered her to a blissful state when she felt his hand stroking her cheek before his lips adoringly pressed onto hers again and she prayed he would not leave them soon.

_This is wrong, this is not how this is supposed to go._

Yet Charlotte was unable to pull away. Instead her hands greedily locked themselves around his neck and held him closer in wordless permission. In this moment she is unmistakably his. There was nowhere she could imagine herself running to. There was nowhere she would want to hide, except in his embrace. She felt she could dissolve in his arms and all worldly stress would disappear. She felt as though she could live off of every exhale of his. As long as it was his. How silly and irrational was that?

Charlotte’s eyes fluttered shut. She could feel his warm breath on her cheek and his lips momentarily ghosting over hers. The anticipation is almost too much. His lips captured hers so gently, so affectionately. And Charlotte was tired. Tired of mulling this through. Tired of thinking. She only wanted to let go now, and allow herself to just ‘feel’. She gasped at his tongue gently flicking against her upper lip and within moments their tongues gliding against each other in a glorious dance. Her hands pawed his cotton shirt in an attempt to hold him even closer to her. 

It felt a bit surreal when Tom rested his forehead against hers and confessed, “I have wanted to do this since the moment I laid eyes on you yesterday.”

While her mind tried to register all that was suddenly happening, Charlotte reached up and stroked her fingertips tenderly along his cheek, tracing his sharp cheekbones and then over his soft beard again, simply touching and exploring, towards his warm and generous lips.

“And I love your dress,” he declared, “I forgot to tell you that.”

“Shame I’m no longer wearing it,” Charlotte chuckled quietly.

In his entire stream of consciousness, Tom had been so caught up in his emotions that he hadn’t even laid proper eyes on Charlotte yet. But he was well and ready to make up for that. He delicately pushed the cardigan off her shoulders and glanced at her skimpy pyjama-set underneath.

“I can live with this as well,” he broke into a big grin before his lips engulfed hers again. Charlotte felt alive. As if she’d suddenly awakened after a long and dull slumber, which was not far from the truth really.

“I’m not here because I want to take advantage, mind you,” he muttered in between kisses, “had I known you’d be….”

Charlotte placed her index finger on his lips, “I’m glad you came back,”

“You are?”

She nodded, “I’ve been kicking myself for having acted so … nervous around you,”

“Do I make you _nervous_ darling?”

_Darling._

Charlotte smiled and placed his hand on her heart. That’s what we say, isn’t it? Although in reality his warm hand actually rested on her warm, soft and just barely covered breast. _No room for pretences here._

Tom chuckled as he locked eyes with her, “well that’s quite something.”

_Yes indeed, the term ‘arrhythmia’ comes to mind._

“This is so unlike me,” she frowned because this was absolutely not something she would usually do, not at all. Her boldness took her aback as well. But then again, this was not a situation she would ‘usually’ find herself in. She felt safe here with him somehow.

His clear blue eyes anxiously sought out hers, “Charlotte, I,”

“M-mm,” she muttered before sweetly pressing her lips to his again, “please don’t,” she pleaded softly, “let this be a one off.”

And with that, their mouths crashed together again, tongues lashing against one another as their hands roamed with renewed fervour and urgency. He tasted of whiskey and chocolate and she relished it. She clawed at his shirt eagerly and in return was rewarded with a lustful grope before his arms wrapped her up in an impassioned embrace.

This was a long time coming, a long time coming for sure. It felt as if the dam had been broken, all water came pouring down. A force of nature. Unstoppable.

Tom’s hands roamed over her spine and down to her silky shorts, which he proceeded to massage with a firm confidence. Charlotte was pleasantly surprised when he grabbed a strong hold of her, urging her legs to clasp around his waist. She could feel him hardening underneath her and locked her hands behind his neck, in a desperate need to hold him ever so close to her.

His strong arms lifted her up and carried her towards the small writing desk in her room. Her fingers feverishly unbuttoned his shirt and she slid her hands under the soft fabric to his back, her nails scraping lightly over his skin and making him shudder and groan into her mouth.

When their lips parted Charlotte could hear him breathing heavily in her ear before he kissed her cheek, then nibbled her earlobe and sat course down her throat towards her neckline. Her head lulled back and a whimper escaped her lips, much to his pleasure…

His fingertips wasted no time and tenderly pushed the thin straps of the camisole off of her delicate shoulders, his lips following suit, leaving a trail of adoring kisses as he sat out to explore every inch of her. **  
**

 

He was undoubtedly not aware of this, but the trail his fingertips left on her set her ablaze. Emotions she had held locked down for a long time came surging back to the surface in full force. Charlotte gasped slightly, her hands desperate to feel him and touch him, stroke him. Meanwhile his hands had deftly rid her off her silky shorts. 

“Please,” she whimpered. Her cheeks were flushed, her mind incoherent, she didn’t even know what she begging for. All she knew was that she wanted, no, she needed him. All of him.

“Patience, darling,” Tom spoke under a slight chuckle as he moved back up so their faces were level, “I want to take care of you first.”

He kissed her deeply, hungrily as his fingers roamed further down where they gently teased and pressed her bundle of nerves with his thumb, leaving his soft fingers to tease and tempt her into oblivion.

Her mouth fell open, her back arched while her feet sought support onto his hips. Her wanton moans grew louder until she didn’t recognise her own voice, swallowed eagerly by Tom’s open mouth. She was close, so close, … and it had been so long, far too long…

“Please,” she moaned against his skin, ready to beg him not to stop. Ever.

 

But his touches did ebb away, agonizingly slow, until her mind finally processed the phone on her nightstand had started ringing.

 _What on earth?_  
  
It took Charlotte a fair moment to realise there was no Tom in her room, there had been no confession nor a kiss. Her heart however wàs beating insanely hard in her throat as she came to her senses - quite aroused and mortified at the same time.

Groggily she grabbed the phone on the nightstand, only to hear a very polite and professional hotel employee greet her with a jovial _“Good morning miss Daniël. This is your 6.30 am wake up call._ _Would you like a follow up call in 10 minutes?”_

 

Charlotte kindly thanked the friendly woman but refused the follow-up, instead making a beeline to the shower. While her mind advised her to take a cold, _very_ cold shower to rinse away that sudden excitement and kick start her day, her heart wouldn’t let her.

With eyes closed, she attempted breathing the images away. Yet under the warm rain shower her hand dwelled down south, craving to meet the arousal fictional Tom had left her with headfirst and take it home. After all it had been so long, so very long. Charlotte had doubted whether or not she still had it in her. Apparently and very very clearly she still did. It didn’t take her long to finish what had been unexpectedly started in her dreamlike state earlier. A quivering mess now, she rested the back of her head against the smooth tiles, heavily panting while muttering she had issues.

 _Oh silly girl, be happy_ , her heart jabbed back, _I told you you were still alive inside._

 

 

 **3.**  
Later that afternoon, Tom cheerfully greeted his mother with a doting kiss on her cheek. Bobby wagged his tail merrily as he set sights on one of his favourite humans; he knèw he was in for an afternoon of loving pats, cooing words and delicious treats. His paws pitter-pattered through the house the second Tom had released him from his leash. Bobby felt well at home here and it was heartwarming to see.

“It’s so nice to see you this often, dear,” the woman smiled before tightly hugging her tall son. Was he growing still or was she shrinking?

“But you do look awfully tired,” she slanted her head as she voiced her concern, which he simply met with a cheeky smile, “you worry too much, mum.”

Now that might be true, but she wouldn’t be a proper mother if she didn’t. _Are you sleeping? Are you eating? Are you winding down enough?_ Diana did thoroughly enjoy having her son back home and closer to her again, but she did have her apprehensions on the toll the busy life was taking on both her son’s biorhythm and his health.

She gladly linked her arm in his as they walked into the living room of his childhood home where he would soon be snooping through the magazines on the coffee table, searching for new books on the shelves and sinking into deep thought at the sight of the latest family snapshots on the dresser while his mother made tea.

 

“I need a new one with you as well,” Tom’s mother confessed as she caught him gazing at a framed picture of herself and his two sisters each with their own little family. It was taken somewhere over the holidays; that part was very clear. Alas Tom had been caught up in an unfortunate and quite demanding press tour…

Tom sighed and nodded his head in agreement, “we should all get together sometime soon.”

His lips curved into a smile as he accepted the cup of tea his mother had made him, but she could tell the smile didn’t quite reach all the way up to his eyes.

“Now tell me, love, what is new with you? Are you getting settled in back home yet?”

Tom was many things, but his mother was particularly proud of the fact she had raised her son to be truthful. So when he blamed his tired outlook on Benedict’s birthday party, her ever-worried mother heart was instantly eased because he might look tired, but it was for a good reason. He was getting out and enjoying himself. At least that’s what she hoped.

 _The boy will never be alone,_ she thought, _but he does get lonely…_ That is what haunted her the most. Every time he came back home after yet another project her son seemed progressively more exhausted, saggy and drained from all energy. It took him longer to find his joy of life back, as if he needed to remember where he had put it last.

As the afternoon progressed, their conversation moved into the kitchen where Tom started clearing the mail and newspapers from the countertop so they could start dinner preparations, when suddenly his eyes fell onto an article.

“Would you look at that,” he murmured while he stroking the creases out of the paper. 

“What is it, love? You’re smiling. Is it a good review?”

“I know her,” it took him a moment for the words to sink in, “this woman." He lifted his chin to the newspaper.

“Who?” His mother furrowed her brows as she peered over her son’s arm. “Her? How is that, dear?”

“That is the lovely Charlotte,” he chuckled and provided his mother with the need to know basis. His eyes still glued to the editorial in front of him, he failed to detect his mother raising an inquisitive brow.

He read out some excerpts of the article to his mother, while his mind quickly drifted back to Charlotte. Lovely Charlotte. Lovely, intelligent and elegant Charlotte. Who was probably well on her way home by now. That part he left out of the conversation with his mother.

Tom had truly enjoyed spending more time with Charlotte. And in all fairness, when he adjusted her shawl last night it took him quite some willpower not to lean in and kiss her again. Just like earlier this month. But sober this time.

Thankfully he did not. What would have been the point? It was clear Charlotte was firmly set on a path of a great professional undertaking. One just needed to read this article to realise she simply breathed out fresh and new possibilities. It was no wonder her diary easily got filled in with dozens of conventions, and now the press fell to her feet as well.

Besides, what if he had made his advances; she would probably laugh it away. Didn’t she already do that earlier this month? Surely, she would want something more than just a mere actor to claim her heart. Perhaps someone was already waiting for her at home…

His mother nodded in appreciation as she heard her son recite quite some words of praise at Charlotte’s address. And with delight she detected his eyes sparkling as he read on.

“I imagine she’ll be thrilled reading this,” Tom’s mother concluded.

“Oh yes, right!” he nodded and, as if a light bulb was switched on, pulled out his smartphone. He snapped a picture of the article and proceeded to send it. To Charlotte.

Diane glanced at her son, typing away on his smartphone while she shook her head under a motherly smile. _My sweet boy, lonely and alone, but always busy…_

While Tom typed, he made a mental note to thank Sophie. Last night, when she suggested Tom - being the globetrotter that he was – should offer the sightseeing-advice he was offering Charlotte in writing, he unreservedly chimed in and agreed. However he did not expect Sophie asking Charlotte’s cell-phone to add his number in it. Tom had laughed the occasion away, claiming to Benedict his wife was _‘cutting his balls off’._ But now, in retrospect, he wàs thankful Sophie was attentive enough to secure information he might have been wanting to get himself.  

 

> _Dear Charlotte, it seems your passage here did not go unnoticed.  
>  I thought you might appreciate this raving (!) editorial – Tom  
>  PS. I hope you got home safe. _

 

 _There. Good._ And in truth, it was the perfect excuse to get back in touch with her. He felt uncomfortable about the way they had said their goodbyes. Maybe this would prove there was no love lost on this end.

His mood lifted, he scuffed Bobby’s head and suggested letting him out in the garden before making himself helpful with his mother in the kitchen. Just like the old days…

His smartphone buzzed on his way to the garden.

 

> _Oh my! Thank you for this, Tom! It made my day!_  
>  _(Silly though, isn’t it?) And yes, safely home._  
>  _Home, sweet sweet home. – Charlotte_  
>  _PS. Thank you for London._

He smiled to himself, _indeed, there’s no place like home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Feedback always (and very much) appreciated. I would love to know what you think! ;-)


	6. Chapter Five : Amsterdam, the Netherlands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> excerpt -  
> Granted, the subsequent sexual encounter might have been quite imaginary, it dìd prove to Charlotte she was still alive inside. It reminded her of her youth, her possibilities and – let’s be honest - her needs. And upon returning home Charlotte had deemed herself finally ready to gently ease herself back into the dating game, much to her best friend Elisabeth’s joy. The ‘Lizzie’ to her ‘Charlie’. Ever understanding, ever supportive, but ever impatient as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Bonus : there is an pinterest moodboard (which I keep updated with each chapter that rolls along)  
> \--> https://www.pinterest.co.uk/theheartofpenelope  
> * You can also follow me (and this story) on tumblr (link on my dashboard)  
> 

 

**Chapter five  
**   
Amsterdam, the Netherlands 

 

**1.**

Amsterdam did not hold many secrets for Charlotte anymore. She had visited the scenic city many times before and so the site had somehow become a familiarity to her. She would never have realised that if Tom hadn’t requested her to send him some pictures of the Netherlands’ capital.

Yes.  
Tom.

His first message came as quite a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. And Charlotte gladly obliged to the kind wish of this man who had kept his word and sent her some not-so-touristy addresses she ought to visit while in Hamburg and Berlin - her next destinations.

Charlotte’s phone shots mostly consisted of her favourite sights such as the bridges over the breath-taking canals, boats, strings of light bulbs lighting up pop-up summer bars in the park and the beautiful restored architecture that took her breath away as if it were the first time she’d laid eyes upon it.  
  
_Thank you Tom for reminding me of this._

 

The Convention didn’t take up much of her time for a change. Charlotte gladly took the opportunity to stop by the floating flower market for some fresh flowers, and browse through one of her favourite flea markets where she picked up a few books before boarding the intercity train home later that afternoon.

With her new acquisitions all packed up, Charlotte strolled down to the Central Station. Upon entering the building, that felt more like the ‘arrivals and departures’- scene at any given airport, she walked passed some colourful shops. She hopped in one to get herself a refreshing drink for the ride home and upon queueing at the cash register, her eyes scanned over the headlines of the international press that was presented there. One specific title in big bold letters called out to her. A tabloid read out in bold red print : _‘Tom Hiddleston spotted with mystery woman’._

Charlotte laughed a little louder than planned as she detected the picture showcased in fact his publicist’s intern. She shook her head in amusement; was this the man she was currently sending touristy pictures to? Felt a bit silly really…

Charlotte couldn’t deny that over the start of the summer her life had somehow taken an unexpected and bizarre turn. While her professional life had continued to overshadow her private life, she did seem to have found a somewhat manageable and unique balance between the two.

In the sense that she would combine her professional obligations at conferences abroad with some extra me-time. She would try to extend her stay as far as time or reason allowed, so she could go and explore the cities and come to herself before starting all over again somewhere else.

In her head her plan seemed picture perfect, in reality she came to realise she really ought to prepare these kinds of visits just a little bit more. Tom’s tips came in more than handy here… She caught her lips curving into a smile.

_Stop it! Silly girl..._

 

Up until now Charlotte had managed to keep her head on straight, regardless of her hectic schedule. She was tired but ambitious, worn-out at times but always remained curious and anxious for what came next. And then came London... the visit that shook her up a bit. It felt as if the carpet had suddenly been pulled out from under her feet. Metaphorically she’d stumbled at first, taken _quite_ the fall nevertheless but then got up again, feeling quite unsure and apprehensive. It had been a dizzying 72 hours, but equally exhilarating nonetheless.

Granted, the subsequent sexual encounter might have been _quite_ imaginary, it dìd prove to Charlotte she was still alive inside. It reminded her of her youth, her possibilities and – let’s be honest - her needs. And upon returning home Charlotte had deemed herself finally ready to gently ease herself back into the dating game, much to her best friend Elisabeth’s joy. The ‘Lizzie’ to her ‘Charlie’. Ever understanding, ever supportive, but ever impatient as well. So before Charlotte was good and well aware ‘Lizzie’ had her all set up for a blind date later that night.

Charlotte did her best not to take any offence in Lizzie’s sudden matchmaking extravaganza - lord knows how long she’d been pushing the matter - but decided to ‘just go with it’.

  
Charlotte switched her phone into flight mode as she boarded the train. She had a thing with flight mode. The thrill of being able to cut out all outside intrusions was one she often indulged in. And right now she had opted to treat herself to some lounge music while reading. With two hours to kill, it seems the perfect getaway from reality.

She settled in her seat, earphones plugged in, loungy music on and one of her new acquirements resting in her hands. She admired the mysterious cover for a while. It was a book Tom had highly recommended to her. Intrigued, she curiously delved in.

WIthin no less than a dozen pages, to her greatest surprise, the words struck home to both Charlotte and her wounded heart.

 

 

 

> _“Even though I complain sometimes it (his heart) said, it’s because I am the heart of a person, and people’s hearts are that way. People are afraid to pursue their most important dreams because they feel they don’t deserve them, or that they won’t be able to achieve them._

 

Many years ago Charlotte had lost her heart to a man. Well, a boy still when they’d first met. And she’d treasured him just as much as he had treasured her. They had gone through so much together; they left the university-benches together and dived headfirst into their professional lives. And while they took their time to search where their respective professional futures lay, they wasted no time on their personal future and got married. She’d truly followed her heart.

Fairly soon he was on his road to success, while Charlotte struggled. They bought a flat with a breath-taking view over the park but by then the marriage was already in heavy weather...

Charlotte’s stomach turned into a knot as the narrative in the book went on.

  

> _"We, their hearts, become fearful just thinking of loved ones who go away, or of moments that could have been good, but weren’t, or treasures that might have been found but were forever hidden in the sands. Because when these things happen we suffer terribly.”_

 

You see; back then, in her professional life Charlotte had only faced glass ceilings and struggled with the balance between professional and private life. A struggle her husband had failed to see or recognize.

Evidently work demanded they would started moving in different circles, networking, meeting new people, investing. He had to put in crazy hours, there was no energy left for other struggles. And Charlotte definitely felt like a struggle he wanted to do without. Or one he could do without.

It astounded her really. After all, they had overcome so much together; she always thought their relationship had a solid foundation that could resist any type of storm. But somehow, in this phase of their lives, she felt as if their marriage was built on nothing more than a children’s floaty. Whimsical, terrifyingly unpredictable.  
To make matters worse, in his opinion there was only room for one career in a marriage. Charlotte begged to differ but for the sake of her marriage she gave up trying to pursue _more_ , thinking it would make her happier and by result him as well. Only it didn’t.

  
She wasn’t suffering though, _not anymore_ , Charlotte thought. With pain in her heart, she had to accept the crumbling of their relationship, their understanding and ultimately their love. She had fought and sacrificed, alas it takes two to tango and their paths lay so far apart now. Closing the door on her marriage, she closed off the door to love in general.  
Although the divorce was ultimately somehow a mutual decision; that didn’t mean it hurt any less. He had been a part of her past and present, but sadly no longer held her future and that insight hurt. Those who say infidelity hurts the most, meet ‘indifference’; the very close runner up!  

  

> _"My heart is afraid it will have to suffer,” said the boy._
> 
> _“Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself. And that no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams because every second of the search is an encounter with God….”_

 

Charlotte had turned her focus now solely on her professional life where all of a sudden – to her a delight - a glass ceiling started showing subtle cracks. She grasped the opportunity with both hands, diving into work and research at full speed, ignoring all else.

Her wings had been clipped in the past, she felt she owed it to herself to open them up now and fly. Far, far away. And she dreaded the day (or the person) who would even _try_ to confine her again.

It caused her an occasional lecture from her best friend Lizzie, but was it clear to outsiders as well that she had closed herself off like this? Or was Tom’s recommendation of this particular book just a happy – albeit freakishly strange - coincidence?

_Cracking open the door to my heart wasn’t enough; must you take down the entire façade as well?_

  
Realising the answer to this question was irrelevant she immediately engrossed herself further in the book. Charlotte felt tears stinging as the chapter went on. Before she knew it, she was halfway along the book when the train halted at her destination. She left the train with a heavy heart, an emotional wound but a regained insight. She shook her head and tucked her new favourite book in her purse.

  
  
  
**2.**  
It had to be said : Charlotte was pleasantly surprised that she was greeted with a _very_ charming man that evening.

_Well done Lizzie!_

He was tall and dressed to the nines, with dark hair, piercing green eyes and a handsome smile to match. She had an inkling he knèw he had charm, but she was not yet sure if he played that card.

He turned out to be both charismatic and intelligent. Charlotte had to fight her inner cynic who immediately wanted to find out what was ‘wrong’ with him in order for him to be single, temporarily forgetting he might as well have the same reservations towards her.

They shared appetizers while talking about the current heat wave, the local news, bits and bobs. It was mildly entertaining, at least as far as anxious blind dates can go. It would seem a lovely dinner would ensue.

The man was athletic, which made him easy on the eye however not on the mind. It started when dinner was ordered and gluten was off limits. “Not allergic,” he elaborated, “but bad for my physique.” Charlotte however gladly indulged in a homemade Sicilian pasta stew. It wasn’t meant as a rebellious act, she was simply a not-so-secret foodie.

_We’re on the fence here, ladies and gentlemen, but let us not jump to conclusions…  
_

 

When the topic of interest came up, it was clear they could not have been more divers and while in her mind that thrilled her, she found he held no remote interest in her hobbies. In fact; he was _quite_ opinionated. She may have been as well, but isn’t there some sort of grey zone? Or the illusion of politeness for starters?

_Strike 1._

 

He considered art as overrated and too pricey. While Charlotte could agree on the financial matter, but ‘overrated’? Seriously? He considered literature old and stuffy, and commented along the lines of _“honestly who reads these days.”_

_Strike 2._

 

Also, he left his smartphone on the table during the entire dinner and wasn’t too shy to check it at times. _Hel-lo?_

_Strike 3._

 

Charlotte had learned long ago to be honest about her desires and so by the end of dinner, after the coffee and the dessert, when he suggested drinks at a wine & lounge bar, she politely refused. She was knackered and the foresight of spending more time going through pointless conversation frustrated her.

She kindly bid her farewell and at his attempt to a ‘let’s do this again maybe’ Charlotte carefully added she did not see any point in that. Kind as he might have been.  
She was met with a surprised reaction. Apparently he did not expect an answer as honest as this, even though he _did_ feel the same.

_Was it not ok to just step forward and say things like this, then?_

Clearly he wasn’t a feminist either. Or was she just high maintenance?

_You’re out!_

 

On her walk home, Charlotte unmuted her smartphone. At least shé had the common sense to zone out outside distractions _during_ her date. As expected Lizzie had already dropped several lines to her. And Charlotte was about to – and very gingerly so – elaborate on the horror-date, “ _3 hours down the drain, did I rush home for_ **_this_ ** _?”_ when she made another, more pleasant, discovery.

Tom had replied to her Amsterdam snapshots. It instantly lifted her mood to read her pictures had brought _‘joy to his heart’_ before going on to share an equally amusing as eloquent anecdote on his day. _Clearly a man who reads_ , the devil on her shoulder fired back to her long-gone date.

 

**3.**

After London, Charlotte had adjusted his name on her contact list to the more fitting ‘Instigator Tom’. She grinned as they exchanged some messages back and forth. As it appeared Charlotte wasn’t the only one who had suffered a lousy end to a promising evening; Tom had gone through a crappy day as well. In an attempt to lighten the mood, she carefully informed him :

 

I started reading ‘The Alchemist’<<

>>And? Your thoughts so far?

There was this quote that I cannot shake…<<  
“You will never be able to escape from your heart.<<  
So it's better to listen to what it has to say”<<  
So tonight, I listened to it.<<

Tom’s lips curved into a smile while he tapped on his phone that that was undoubtedly a very wise decision on her behalf. Although he did sympathise for her date gone wrong. He chuckled out loud when Charlotte swiftly countered with a “you should be, it’s all your fault really - recommending that book and all…” And he gladly and sincerely apologized to her.

To his surprise her date turned out to be a _blind_ date, and before he was well aware he had sent out :

>> So, it was a _‘blind’_ date? Forgive me for saying,  
but you don’t strike me as the type who would need a set-up?

I’ll take the compliment ;-) <<

So Charlotte had went on a date, a blind one at that. While Tom wanted to think 'good for her', his mind fixated on 'single'. Truly, he wanted nothing more than to bond with her on the difficulties of dating but found himself lacking for any decent answer in that department because he simply did not date. Not anymore.

Long gone were the days were he would (or could) just go out and strike up a conversation with a woman and see where it went. He wasn’t around long enough to let anything flourish, let alone bloom. Not at all. When he wasn’t working, his days or evenings were filled with press tours, interviews, premiers, gala's. Maybe an occasional party. But the essence of it all was always exactly the same. Someone would pull on his sleeve, demanding him to ' _come and meet someone'_. Someone in his line of work, someone up and coming, someone he should definitely rub shoulders with. Meet so and so. Talk, discuss, network. At times it really wàs lovely and interesting. But the horrible truth of the matter remained that Tom was living by his work schedule and not by his heart. A very conscious decision he’d made many years ago, that had somehow turned into a grueling reality these days.

So he replied to Charlotte in the only way he could, by truthfully confiding in her and sharing the loneliness of the ‘picture perfect actors’ behind the spotlights.

Thank you for saying that. However, I find this very doubtful… <<

>> It is the truth though, I’m afraid.

He hesitated for a moment, before daring to question her :

>> You’ve not been dating long?

No. Just easing into it again. (Peer pressure)<<  
It’s been a while…<<

Tom unknowingly bit his lower lip, subsequently running his tongue over it while he wondered how he could diplomatically find out more without seeming crass or rude. Did she suffer from a bad break-up? To his surprise she very easily and clearly admitted that the only thing she ‘suffered from’ was a lonely divorce.

_A divorce?_

Charlotte chuckled and shook her head when Tom apologized via text - as if he had anything to do with her marital status… A short text of his followed asking her what had happened and then a third one; another apology because he reasoned his asking was _‘probably rather indiscrete’._

She was unaware that a heavy sigh escaped her lips as she delved deep into her thoughts before typing out: 

That’s all right. I guess ‘life’ happened?<<  
Feels like failure though.<<

Or the death slot on the goose board. Back to square one.<<

(can’t believe I just said that)<<

Goes to show, I’m damaged goods. Steer clear ;-)<<

 

Her answer came out in a series of separate texts. The obvious proof her mind was still processing somewhat. Tom’s benevolent reply that she shouldn’t be too hard on herself, warmed her heard. After all, he reasoned _“Sometimes it’s nice to start over? Or heal.”_

So they say… <<

_Dot. End of the line._

Charlotte kept silent after this. Nothing more was to be said on the matter, was there? In London, Tom thought long and hard about a decent reply… In his heart he felt he could not end this conversation on those last words of her.

>> If memory serves me well, the book also says :  
_“Don't give in to your fears. If you do, you won't be able to talk to your heart.”_

 Charlotte smiled to herself as a text followed in which he reasoned _“we’re not meant nor made to be alone”_ and that her peer pressuring friends are right in pushing her forward after nearly a year on the bench. _“Someone to talk to late at night, Someone to cuddle, … not to be underestimated!”_

He shook his head to himself when he caught himself typing that the end of a marriage isn’t the be all - end all. And while he fervently dreamed he would never have to experience a divorce first-hand, sometimes it was simply the right thing to do. If only you handled it well. In which case he referred to his parents and the toll it could possibly take on the young children involved. But Charlotte had no children, she was young enough to start over. And there is no harm in that.

 _Now this is some very cheap therapy_ , a mirthless grin at his own expense.  

 

>> Not all storms come to disrupt your life, Charlotte, some come to clear your path.

A pause.

>> Besides, there’s always the prison-slot.  Just a time-out until someone sets you free.

… isn’t that a Sting song?<<

>> Avoiding the point Charlotte..

:-) <<  
Thank you for recommending the book to me though.. <<

 

>> I hold it close to my heart. I had a feeling you might appreciate it as well.

 

Charlotte heaved a content sigh and confessed that, indeed, all she wanted to to was to get home and finish the book. To her surprise he correctly guessed she would and should just do that in her garden.  
_Good memory, young man. Bonus points for you._

She agreed with him and shared her intent of making a fresh mint tea first. Because when you read in the garden at night, this was the only way to do it right. He chuckled to himself and confessed how much he could relate to that.

Their conversation ended with wishing the other a good night and the promise of more book recommendations.

Placing his smart phone away, Tom reminisced on the sneak-peak he’d gotten of her heart and it was not what he had imagined it to be. In his eyes she was intelligent, beautiful and carefree. He never considered her broken hearted. Goes to show everybody hides behind a façade, he realised. It made him like her just a little bit more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Feedback always (and very much) appreciated. I would love to know what you think! ;-)


	7. Chapter Six : London vs. Berlin - Hamburg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> excerpt -  
> Tom sympathised. He listened and gently asked on about certain things but only when he felt she might be all right with it. He was there, ready to chase out the bad words and replace them with bittersweet nostalgic memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Bonus : there is an pinterest moodboard (which I keep updated with each chapter that rolls along)  
> \--> https://www.pinterest.co.uk/theheartofpenelope  
> * You can also follow me (and this story) on tumblr (link on my dashboard)  
> 

 

 **Chapter six  
**   
**One week later  
London versus Berlin - Hamburg**

**1\. London**

The coffeeshop was buzzing with the usuals sounds of a lucrative business. Customers were happily chatting away, sounds of cutlery clinking against the porcelain chimed through the establishment while the coffee grinders worked at full steam. The waiting staff efficiently served all patrons with their trademark smile and hospitable air.

In the corner by the window Tom sat at a small wooden table, stirring his spoon in his fresh cup of coffee before glancing over towards Emma. He’d treated his younger sister to a cup of coffee and sweets as a thank you for her assistance with his shopping for a very specific gift earlier on. Passing by one of his favourite coffee places in this neck of the woods, it seemed only natural he’d buy her a ‘thank you’-cuppa.

Tom questioningly looked over towards his younger sister yet again while she thoughtfully kept paging through the brochure.

“You’ve made the right choice,” Emma finally murmured with a nod, “definitely. Perfect even.”

“Hmmm, you think?” Tom fiddled with the pages, slowly pulling the booklet back towards him and with a pensive frown, flipped through it again.

“My god,” the petite ginger pestered, “and this is just a little nicnac. What are you going to do when the poor child is actually born?”

“Oh, hardy har har,” he shot back, eyes still glued to the page, “I just want to do this right.”

“How very uncharacteristic of you,” Emma snorted before turning her attention to one of the coffeeshop’s newspapers, idly turning its pages and looking for anything and nothing in particular.

“They already have 2 little ones,” Tom sighed, “I want to make sure that its godfather is getting the little monster something they don’t already have. And yet something that’s meaningful...”

 

But it was clear the message was lost on his sibling who was now curiously looking at a specific article in the paper. A grin spread across her face, he could tell she was up to no good when she looked up at him with that mischievous sparkle he’d come to dread over the years. _What now?_

“Hey, isn’t that the ComiCon–lawyer-person?” she pointed out.

“Word gets out fast,” Tom muttered under his breath before sipping his coffee again. He reached his hand out and motioned his sister to hand him the newspaper. He was ever so eager to correct his sister on the reality of ‘this Charlotte-thing’ until his eyes fell on the cruel nickname in bold black print next to a snapshot of her. _‘Angel of Death’._

Tom was utterly appalled and furrowed his brows as his eyes skimmed the article.  
“Well this is harsh,” he mumbled. To him Charlotte - without fault - came across as a charming and eloquent persona, not the grim reaper the press were now suddenly labelling her.

 

His heart went out to Charlotte. It really did. She seemed to have crawled under his skin somehow; this warm hearted woman who had been ever so daunting towards the press from the start. He’d gotten to know her as an ambitious woman, who longed for nothing more than to set the record straight about who she was and what she stood for. It seemed so unfair for her, of all people, to get mulled the way she was.

“It’ll all blow over by tomorrow, I’m sure,” his sister relativized while trying to steal her brother’s scone.

“Still,…” under a lifted brow he playfully slapped her hand away while fishing out his smartphone. He typed out a message to Charlotte in which he expressed his concern, much to his sister’s delight. Emma tilted her head in an attempt to peer at the text, murmuring “it’s sweet though, that you care so much.”

When Tom - ever fast on his feet - quickly reciprocated with a “I would do the same for any other friend,” Emma couldn’t help but nod with a final gentle tease, “and how long ago did you two meet again?”

Tom slanted his head and raised an eyebrow apprehensively, “don’t…”

Emma held up her hands as if to convey him of her innocence, “I’m not. I’ve missed my big brother - indulge me in my teasing…”

He only shook his head in utter annoyance, “it is nothing more than a concerned friendly message. That is it. Be careful there or shall I start on your love life now?” a small grin lit up his face. “And besides, haven’t you read? I’m apparently seeing a mystery blonde now…”

“Well yes,” Emma caught on after taking another sip from her coffee, “I wàs wondering about that…”

“Can’t show my bloody face before they start snapping away and publishing rubbish,” Tom shook his head in disbelief before his sister looked up at him, positively beaming and no doubt fired up with one or two monkey tricks. And indeed, with a strange sense of pride she lifted the newspaper in her hands, revealing a pap-shot of Tom strolling down the street and cosily laughing with said lovely petite blonde, “rubbish big brother?”

“Ok, all right, all right,” Tom chuckled while turning a deep shade of pink, “I admit she’s a very lovely colleague. Good heavens, look at you - trying to get Luke out of a job little sister?”

“Just what I thought,” Emma delightedly winked, “so? Dating?”

“We’re working together,” Tom mildly protested, “it would seem highly inappropriate to…”

“M-hm,” Emma sighed loudly, as if to highlight she’d already heard that routine before.

Tom rolled his eyes in playful annoyance, which lured Emma into raising her brow before inquisitively leaning in and whispering, “now really. Tell me,”

“I don't know,...” he hesitated, “she's lovely, she truly is. But… ”

“Something is missing,” now it was Emma’s turn to roll her eyes in exasperation while shaking her head. _When would he ever learn?_

“Don't mock me,” he scolded softly.

“I'm not! I'm just wondering when the day will come when something is not missing to your standards…” She didn't want to seem hurtful, it was simply the truth.

 

Emma had noticed her brother had taken more than one step back when it came to dating these last couple of years. While it had originally been a very conscious and logical decision of his, she now often heard her mother worrying about the impact this decision was taking on him. And on second thought she found she would have to agree with her mother, on a certain level.

But then came the Hiddleswift-extravaganza, the whirlwind romance that knocked the family right off their feet. So much, so fast, so soon. However, at least he was breaking his solitude and that was, in a way, a good thing. After it fizzled out equally abrupt as it had started in the first place - and under the ever critical and even speculative eye of the (gutter)press no less - it was no wonder to Emma that her brother would step back from dating again for a while.

  
At first she thought he just needed to lick his wounds - wouldn’t we all? - but then new projects started following each other up in a vast tempo. As always. And what was worse, his emotional private life seemed even more neglected then ever before. Her brother was exhausted and haunted by his own thoughts, And now Emma didn’t know what to think of the situation anymore. Though she thoroughly hoped his current break could or would bring back the more happy and carefree brother she grew up with.

 

Tom exhaled loudly, “well, you’ll be _happy_ to know that we’re going out for drinks soon. After the project wraps up. Just … don’t tell anyone.”

“Good! Very good. Also, my lips are sealed,” she gestured, delighted at the notions her big brother was getting back out there again. “but just remember, the camera’s are not.” She added with a well meant playful wink.

 

**2\. Berlin  
**

_**‘Angel of Death’**_ – the term haunted her more than Charlotte cared to admit. The words stung, they stung so bad.

Charlotte blamed her initial emotional reaction to the article on fatigue, because the gruelling pace of travelling all over Europe was definitely starting to take its toll. Also, the intense debates that repeatedly occurred at every Conference were slowly starting to get under her skin as well…

However still, Charlotte’s strong beliefs were suddenly shaking on their foundation. And while she wanted to power on through, she found she could not handle the backlash that was now coming towards her. Charlotte was raised to be diplomatic, to find an agreeable way to interact with people, to negotiate, to debate, not to tear someone down without mercy. To have the press do exact that to her was difficult to comprehend and impossible to forget.

Charlotte’s dad had called her as soon as the article came out. He’d tried calming his daughter by advising her to not pay any attention to it. _“Bad press is press at the least. You’re doing something that matters, leave those nasty words behind, rise above it. Be strong, be proud and do not give up sweetheart.”_ But he failed to realise Charlotte was under heavy attack because of her personal situation more than her professional one.

 

You see, his wife and Charlotte’s mother was diagnosed with ‘young dementia’ and she was currently already residing in a memory care facility. That last step was a recent development after a new diagnosis confirmed she was in fact suffering from Lewy Body Dementia (*). Under the public eye, the written press very broadly analyzed and scrutinized Charlotte for simply _"not practicing what she preached"_. They painted a very unstable and hypocritical image of her. _“Euthanasia for those who suffer mentally but not your own mother? Come on now!”_ The press was relentless and paid no attention to the details that truly mattered, the same details that made every difference in the world.

 

Charlotte was amazed where the journalists had found all this background information, and was left utterly devastated at the harsh words at her address. More over Charlotte was exhausted and alone; craving the comfort of home, family and friends. She’d spilt hot tears under the shower that evening, it was the first time she’d allowed herself to shake her frustration and pain on the matter.

All day long attendees at the conference had either confronted her with the article and asked about her opinion, which was not the most pleasant experience, but others were worse and kept quiet in her face yet whispered about it behind her back. As if Charlotte didn’t know they were talking about her...

Her phone had been blowing up all day with a whole variety of messages and warm wishes from family, friends and even colleagues who knew there was more to Charlotte than what was so harshly put out in print. But Charlotte didn’t answer. She didn’t answer anyone of them, she was just done with it. And wished for the day to be finally over as well.

 

**3\. London - Berlin  
**

The night was slowly creeping in and hours had passed since Tom had sent Charlotte a text but she hadn’t answered. He realised he would surely not be the only one texting her, but still… usually she would respond to him one way or another. It seemed out of character for her not to respond, but then again this was an unusual turn of events….

Her silence plagued him, and so ultimately Tom took it upon himself to text Charlotte once more later that evening. To his surprise, he was rewarded with a quick cynical reply. Something he had come to know as ‘Charlotte-style’. His lips curved upwards; she wasn’t asleep yet. And because her words didn’t really convince him, he tapped the call-button on his cell.

Very quickly his thoughts were confirmed; her text message might have been cynical and morbidly funny in contrast her voice sounded clearly distraught and cracked with exhaustion. He was quite sure she thought she was hiding it well.

 

“You should distance yourself. I’m your publicist’s worst nightmare,” Charlotte pestered quietly.

“I didn’t hear back from you,” he spoke softly, “I was worried.”

“My phone is blowing up right now.”

“How are you feeling?”

“It’s ok, I’m all right. Bad press is still press, that’s what they say right?”

Tom couldn’t shake the feeling she seemed so short, curt even, in her replies. She was speaking rationally, distanced from the situation, vehemently prohibiting any emotions in her discourse. So he asked, he simply hàd to; “and now the truth please, Charlotte?”

A loud sigh on the other end.

Charlotte hated he possessed the talent of gently luring the truth out of her. And so she confessed to be feeling exhausted and annoyed.

Or no, make that ‘angry’ and ‘sad’.

‘Disappointed.’

‘Emotional.’

_And so incredibly alone._

 

She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on her hand. She could feel the tears stinging again and tried her best to hold them in. Granted, it wasn’t as if he could see them, but she desperately wanted to spill no more tears over the whole debacle. She found she would have to be strong and suck it up. Surely that would the best and fastest way to get over it. Utter denial, step over the issue as if it were no more than a nasty, muddy puddle on the pavement.

So yes, she would hide her tears. However her voice turned a bit hushed and a bit high-pitched as she cautiously fumed things along the likes of _How or where do they get this information? Why does this matter? This is my personal life… Doesn’t anyone remember what I stand for? At all?_

Tom sighed and tried to console her by confessing he could, in fact, relate on the matter somewhat and offered her his support.

“Please, then tell me, how do you rise above this kind of nonsense?” Charlotte sounded exasperated, “because I’m not the type of person to let things like that get to me, far from it. But I see it in print here in Germany, it’s in papers back home and apparently in the UK as well. And I can handle criticism, don’t think I can’t. But this?! This is almost a personal attack. God, I feel so judged...”

“Do you have the article there?” Tom was astounded, “do you have it before you? On paper? And you’re reading it? For the umpteenth time no doubt...”

“y-yes?” Charlotte groaned uneasily.

“Take it,” he ordered sternly, “do you have it in your hands?”

“Yes, why?”

“Tear it apart Charlotte,” he ordered simply, “really. Trust me on this one. Just rip it up, and rip it up good so you cannot _possibly_ put it back together again. Then toss it in the bin. And promise me you won’t go googling for it.

Charlotte chuckled at his rendition of rigorous fatherly advice.

“Really,” his voice softened, “promise me Charlotte. “You’re an intelligent woman and I admire you for what you stand for. Do not let anybody tell you anything different. Ever. And what they printed about your mum, I’m quite sure that it’s just gutter-talk. You don’t fool me darling. Don’t let them get to you, all right?”

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he paused and then reconsidered his words.  
“ _Would_ you tell me about her? Please?”

She felt his compassion cool her frustrations, his kindness covering her like a warm blanket. So Charlotte sighed, before carefully opening up about her mother's young dementia.

“It was just silly things at first, like forgetting where you put your keys. Then her vision worsened and she left the driving over to dad or my brother and me, which we didn't mind because we just got our driver's licence,” she chuckled at the long forgotten memory, “but then she stopped writing at one point... stopped having fun at it. She got all gloomy at times, isolated herself more at times.”

Charlotte paused, for a while, “she went for long walks by herself. Only later on we found out they were only ‘long’ because she suffered with finding her way back…”

Tom sympathised. He listened and gently asked on about certain things but only when he felt she might be all right with it. He was there, ready to chase out the bad words and replace them with bittersweet nostalgic memories.

“And I know she is good where she is now,” Charlotte concluded, “and she has her lucid moments. And she wants to _live_. So much. And that is her good right and we have to respect that. I just… I just don’t appreciate I'm being called a hypocrite because I'm refusing to take to euthanasia in my personal situation.”

“Don’t they get it?” Charlotte all but exploded, “it is not _my_ decision to make. It is hers and she chose not to consent to that when she was lucid. Don’t they see how hard this is on everyone involved? It’s a lose-lose-situation and… oh crap … what's it to them anyway?”

On the other end Tom sank back in his seat as the reality of her situation sank in.  
“Oh Charlotte,” he spoke softly, his voice low and quiet, “I - I can't imagine how hard this must be.”

 

That. That one sentence right there. It came out as a whisper - a truthful confession.  
Charlotte could feel the tears stinging in her eyes and did her best to wish them away.  
_No more, please no more tears._

“Thank you,” he added softly, “for confiding in me.”  
“When did you last see her?”

That did it. Charlotte hiccuped, her eyes welling up before new salty tears fell from her eyes, trickling down her cheek without relent.

“I'm sorry, Tom,” she breathed, “I'm just - I’ just so tired. The days are so long and exhausting...”

A feeling of complete powerlessness fell over him. There was nothing he could do but listen and talk. He hated he was not there to offer a handkerchief, to run his hand over her back in reassuring circles, to hug her or offer her a small smile in the hopes it would diminish her tears.

“Darling, don't apologise. It's been a while since you've seen her I take it... “

Charlotte nodded silently, not even aware he wasn't there to see it.

“Oh Charlotte,” he sighed, felling ever the more guilty, “I should let you sleep... can you sleep?”

She admitted she'd been tossing and turning for a while now. Her mind absolutely in turmoil. "But I'm glad you called," she confessed, while wiping her tears with the back of her hand, “so glad.” Because he knew what he was talking about, and he somehow had managed to calm her down somewhat.

"How could I not...."

Charlotte took a shaky breath and sighed - his heart broke for her.

 

“You know, I’ve been meaning to tell you, I caved,” he gently switched the subject, “you know Elena Ferrante isn’t all that bad…”

Charlotte smiled, aware of what he was doing.

“Shall I read you a little bit?” He never waited for an answer, but just flipped open the book and commenced. He could hear her rustling on the other end and imagined her curling up underneath the duvet, the cell phone glued to her ear still.

_“My friendship with Lila began the day we decided to go up the dark stairs that led, step after step, flight after flight, to the door of Don Achille’s apartment. I remember the violet light of the courtyard, the smells of a warm spring evening. The mothers were making dinner, it was time to go home, but we delayed, challenging each other, without ever saying a word, testing our courage. ….”_

He read the rest of the chapter as though he was reading just for himself, taking his time and engulfing himself in the story. By the end of the chapter the sounds on the other end of the line had gotten very quiet.

“Charlotte?” he queried, “Charlotte darling,” quieter now, “are you asleep?”

He paused for a second to concentrate on the noises on the other side of the connection. Very vaguely he heard her steady breath; yes, she was most definitely asleep. A sense of pride and sweet affection came over him; a smile crept across his lips as he listened a little while longer.

“Good night my darling Charlotte, sweet dreams.”

And with that, he hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * in case any of you were wondering : People with Lew Body Dementia characteristically experience dramatic swings in their level of alertness, fluctuating from clarity to confusion, often in a short period of time. Visual hallucinations are common in DLB, typically of people and animals, which are vivid. Although they may have other Parkinsonian symptoms, the tremor associated with PD is not always present. Because DLB, AD and PD share so many symptoms, diagnosis of DLB can be difficult and requires an experienced specialist.
> 
> * Feedback always (and very much) appreciated. I would love to know what you think! ;-)


	8. Chapter Seven : Malmö - Ystad vs. London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> excerpt - 
> 
> Tom would have been lying if he’d said he didn’t contemplate on Sadie as being a potential love interest. His heart was open, his mind curious for new possibilities. He enjoyed the fact she carelessly linked her arm through his before heading outside. She did not seem to take notice of paparazzi or photographers. 
> 
> Or did she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Bonus : there is an pinterest moodboard (which I keep updated with each chapter that rolls along)  
> \--> https://www.pinterest.co.uk/theheartofpenelope  
> * You can also follow me (and this story) on tumblr (link on my dashboard)

 

**Chapter Seven**

**Malmö - Ystad versus London**

 

**1\. Malmö to Ystad (Sweden)**

Charlotte absent-mindedly rubbed the creases out of her black dress pants, her eyes looking outside without really seeing any of the scenery that flashed by the windows of the black and yellow taxi.

The seminar had been another exquisite yet exhausting experience. And her biorhythm was now slowly but surely - and very clearly so - catching up with her; demanding more rest and meals at set hours. The steady cadence of the car thudding over the aqueduct lulled Charlotte into a sleep she could no longer fight off, despite her best efforts. She slouched back in the taxi and closed her eyes ‘for a bit’ as the driver skilfully guided her out of from the city of Malmö and towards Ystad in Sweden. It had been Tom’s suggestion. _"You’ll love it there, you’ll see_ ," he’d vouched, _"away from the busy city, closer to nature."_

If her brother would see her now he’d tease her relentlessly; fatigue had won her over and easily conquered Charlotte’s quite stubborn and ever-present inner control freak.  
Or was it her trust in Tom that subconsciously offered her enough confidence to let go, if only for a little while...

He’d presented her with his kind hearted advice very casually and politely, open for her to take it or not. But diplomatically he might have gently urged her into following the proposition. In all sincerity an escape from the busy commercial and industrial centre of Malmö and a return to nature and to silence was very tempting for Charlotte in her current fragile state of mind. All she had to do was say ‘yes’, he concluded, and all the rest could be very easily arranged.

 

_"A small town with little traffic, that offered a vast seaview. Beautiful and pure beaches that stretched out as far as the eye could see, …."_ Charlotte had sighed and chuckled as she admitted that it all sounded so very lovely and perfect. Tom had smiled to himself and sealed the deal by simply replying that his publicist would make all necessary reservations a.s.a.p. and subsequently email her all the essential information. He texted her later on that he’d even arranged for a taxi to pick her up after the seminar.

_No way back now, Charlotte._

 

After an hour or so the taxi pulled up on a deserted road. Charlotte rubbed her tired eyes, dusk was setting in but it might as well have been midnight to her.  
Sitting up straight in her seat, Charlotte looked out of the car window with clear hesitation. Not a town in sight.

“Excuse me,” she mumbled, “are you _sure_ this is the correct address?”  
“Yes lady,” the cab driver nodded as he collected the fare, “your address there!”

 

Stepping out of the car, the effect of the scenery suddenly caught up with her. And in full force. Charlotte was clueless where the sea was, but felt the iodine hit her lungs immediately. The air was cold, a lot cooler than in Malmö. She’d heard a thing or two about the polar air, but never expected to experience it in the summertime. The heatwave wasn’t hitting Sweden as hard as Germany obviously.

Uncertain on where she was exactly heading, Charlotte took a deep breath before walking up the pebble stone path that stretched out in front of her, hobbling her suitcase along before trotting up the steps to the airbnb home she’d apparently rented. Well Tom’s publicist had rented it in her name.

The lights inside the cottage were on, much to her delight. That would mean the house would be warm, that she would have local company and possibly, _hopefully_ even some food available. A bonus in every way. For lack of a doorbell, she knocked on the wooden door with curious courage.  

 

 

**2\. London**

The company went over their cues, the lighting, and the sound check. They paraded around the premises one last time before the moment of truth. The pace of his heart doubled its rhythm when Tom laid eyes on all the spectators some 2 hours later. Whoever said that stage fright lessened with experience was an absolute liar, he mused. Because he fell victim to it. Every single time. Again and again. This nervous flutter in his chest that kept him on his toes and would launch him into giving everything he’s got - and even more than that - for the sake of giving the audience their money’s worth.

But after performing that first line his rapidly beating heart would, without fault, slow down to a more serene pace and Tom could sink and drown into his character. It felt like returning ‘home’, to your old and usual ways from where one could just pick up and carry on...

It was difficult to explain, but the stage really _did_ feel like home on occasions. Where the always unique energy of the audience welcomed you, spurred you on, sometimes even lifting you through the happy scenes as well as the emotional ones... And on nights like these, where he would be on stage for a dramatic reading without any costumed acting he revelled in said experience even more. You would think it would come of as easy, but really it wasn’t. Performing a dramatic reading without acting off props or each other; it was a challenge. But a welcome one.

 

Tom could see one of his female colleagues swallow and close her eyes in trepidation. Oh, he’d been there before all right. Tom rewarded the young, blonde woman with an encouraging smile and softly reassured her she would be fine right before they were introduced and called up on stage, ready to be thrown before the lions so to speak.

Her name was Sarah but went by ‘Sadie’. The director had dubbed her a rising star; _“watch out for this one”_. She’d just shrugged, smiled and waved it off.

Over rehearsals the two of them had quickly fallen into a comfortable routine. Sadie was very likable, very ambitious and very attractive. _Let’s be honest here and call it what it is._ With her long straight flaxen hair and her intense blue eyes, she could have walked straight out of a movie set. Surely it wouldn’t be long until she would be discovered on a larger scale.

She was a good actress, hard working. Though still somewhat green behind her ears, she dìd know - and very well - how the theatre world worked, yet severely underestimated the power of press and social media.Tom thought she was wonderfully naïve. She had boundless energy and went for things headfirst. She reminded him a lot about his younger self. And he was keen to help her on her way whenever she turned towards him for advice.

Their relation was casual and familiar. Their conversation always interesting. They just connected very well. They were on the same page, somewhat. Both understanding the demands of in-depth preparation for a role, of boundless reading, endless rehearsing and early nights in, the need to take care of your body to keep up with the long run of plays without falling ill... There were no words needed on the subject. So nice. And something could be there, Tom had pondered recently. However she was an untamed young horse, eager to experience and to travel, not nearly ready to settle down.

 

“You did good,” he mouthed to Sadie after her first reading that night, discreetly showing her a thumbs up. Delight twinkled in her eyes.  

In fact the entire performance went well; the audience was mesmerised and enthusiastic. Tom enjoyed performing at the Emmanuel Centre, where he’d just pleaded the case of Dickens vs Tolstoy. It was an intelligent debate, where the authors spoke for themselves through excerpts actors read. It was a trip down literature history. A road in which he gladly delved. It triggered deep thoughts and founded philosophical debate. It was a project he could sink his teeth into, an opportunity he could not refuse…

 

 

**3\. Ystad - London**

After the last curtain call Tom headed back to his dressing room. Well, walking on air would have been a more accurate expression seeing he was simply floating on the roaring applause of the audience that still echoed slightly into the hallways backstage.

_A good night, definitely a good night_.

He cupped his hands under the stream of cold water, before splashing the cool droplets onto his face. Although adrenaline did its part, Tom could feel exhaustion lingering in the background. Yes, he was tired but so very satisfied. And to be honest, quite happy as well that tonight would be a night where he could let go of all worldly stress. It was time for fun and relaxation, for drinks and laughter. A night for offering thanks and bidding goodbyes. But perhaps one goodbye would not be in the works, maybe not yet…

 

The ringtone on his smartphone broke his trail of thoughts and abruptly brought him back to the present. Towel in hands, he detected it was in fact an incoming facetime-request. And one he certainly did not want to miss.

As soon as he’d accepted the incoming call, Tom was delighted to see a familiar coastal scenery pass before his eyes again. Charlotte’s happy-go-lucky face suddenly came into frame.  
She looked better than he’d remembered, although quite tired. A sting to his heart.  

 

“Oh, I _hope_ I am not interrupting anything, but would you just look at _that_ ?!” Charlotte exclaimed as she twirled around a deserted and heavenly looking beach some 800 miles away from him.  
“I’m sorry. But I just hàd to show you. There are no suitable words for this…”

Tom was grinning without realizing it and chuckled when nothing more than words of praise continued to fall from her lips. She seemed so happy, nowhere near the broken little girl he’d calmed to sleep a few nights before.

_Perfect._

“Best. Tourguide. Ever!” she concluded, “let me know when you quit your day job.”

“I am thrilled that you’re happy,” Tom confessed truthfully.

“I am _beyond_ happy I think,” she chuckled before gushing, “Tom, it’s just - só beautiful here.”

 

Tom wearily sank down into a nearby chair. She had never said his name out loud before. She sounded so relaxed.

“If you think this is nice, you should see it in the winter...”

Charlotte fell silent, no more than a sigh tumbled from her mouth and then a small chuckle as she joked “I half expect Jussi to come running up,” referencing Henning Mankell’s Wallander and Tom lips curved themselves into an understanding smile before he noted the scenery blurred suddenly.

“Charlotte?” he frowned with a laugh, “Charlotte? Are you alright?”

“Hang on, I’m trying to switch this to a regular call.”

“It’s all right though,” he protested, “am I not allowed to see you then?”

“No, you are, it’s just…,” more rummaging about before she resurfaced with a silly, “hey” and a lopsided smile.

“Hi,” a broad amused smile on his part.

“It seems a bit silly that I called you now,” Charlotte cast her eyes downward as she shook her head, “this face-to-face and all,”

“I disagree, I’m glad you did,” he confessed, “I’d been thinking about visiting Ystad again. Now that I’ve seen I feel remorseful I’m not there right now.”

“You look tired,” he remarked, “didn’t sleep well last night?”

“Well aren’t you charming,” Charlotte retorted lightening-fast before playfully turning the camera back to the seaside with a chuckle.

 

She confessed she’d slept like a rose after his call and humorously added she hoped she’d at least didn’t snore. Tom chortled at that and a assured her she hadn’t.  
Her 2 following days in Hamburg offered her a reasonable amount of sleep. Her moral was better and the pressure of the media had diminished, but she softly confessed to feeling so drained now; as if she could sleep days on end.

“Nowhere better to do just that, than in Ystad,” Tom reassured her, “enjoy it to the fullest.”

“Thank you though, for that night,” Charlotte looked towards her feet once more and scrunched her nose. “For your concern, your patience.”

A slight sigh, she seemed so fragile and lonely again all of a sudden, “I erm - I tend to keep my vulnerable self firmly under wraps, you know…”

“That’s quite all right Charlotte,” he soothed, “I know how gruelling the press can get.”

“It meant a lot to me,” her stomach twisted into a tight little knot, “just wanted to say that. ”

For a second he wished he was right there with her, on that beach, where the sun was quickly making way for the moon and stars. Just to be away from it all. Just for a little while.

 

Tom contemplated his crazy thoughts, before declaring the obvious “I can hear the surf...”

Looking back up to the screen, Charlotte’s eyes measured his jaded form, his tousled hair, his slouch. She suggested that perhaps she just ought to stay quiet and let him enjoy that for a while. Tom let out a humm of approval.  

“Are yòu alright?” Charlotte frowned concerned.  

“Yeah, just…. tired,” he laughed at his own expense.

“Ah, the mystery blonde keeping you up, is she?” she jested to which he could only smirk, “now, now, I’m only slowly coming back to earth after a whirlwind of 5 to 6 years.”

“Are you sure about that? Weren’t you performing somewhere tonight?” came the critical but good hearted response.

“You remembered that?”

“Hiatus usually means doing nothing professionally for a period of time,” she continued, “safe to say you’re not good at it.”

“It had my name all over it,” he shrugged, “I couldn’t refuse.”

Charlotte slanted her head to the side, a small smile creeping across her lips, “something tells me there’s a lot going on behind that solid surface you’re presenting the world with.”

“Oh shush,” he chuckled.

 

Charlotte only suited action to her words, and on his smartphone he saw a beautiful crescent moon rising over a semi-restless sea. The sun was setting quickly. He imagined stars coming out soon. He imagined himself walking on the pebbled beach, with a sea-crazed Bobby running to and from him, momentarily side-tracking towards the water for a silly splash. He shouldn’t postpone these trips anymore he figured.

“I’m envious of you right now,” he breathed, allowing his gloomy side to break through his façade.  

Charlotte kept silent, taking some time to reflect and try her best in remembering the exact words of an old poem her granddad had once taught her. 

 

> _Timeless sea breezes,_  
>  _that for aeons have_  
>  _blown ancient rocks,_ _  
> _ _you are purest space_ _  
> _ coming from afar…

Tom smiled as he heard her recite Rainer Maria Rilke. Yes, a trip to Ystad was long overdue.

 

A knock on Tom’s dressing room door snapped the both of them out of their respective daydreams.  
He apologised and explained his latest project had indeed just wrapped up that night and that the entire company was heading out for drinks in a bit.

Quick on her feet, Charlotte added that in that case she really shouldn’t keep him longer. She wished him a great night out and added the hope that he would start to enjoy his downtime from now on. She even made him promise, to which Tom could only laugh when he’d set eyes on her funny stern expression. “Sure, Miss Charlotte.”

“Good,” she winked.

 

Tom sat staring at the screen of his smartphone as it turned black.

Another knock in his door. Sadie poked her head inside, she was beaming from ear to ear, “c’mon Tomcat, are you ready?”

“Yes! Right!” he slapped his hands on his thighs, “I’ll be right out darling.”

 

 

**4\. London continued**

Sadie was charming, endearing and absolutely gorgeous. Tom gladly rose to his feet to present her with his arm and escorting her back to the group. They all clinked glasses together that night before happily chatting on about the piece, the past, the present and the future. Before long he was caught up in an entertaining conversation with the lovely Sadie.

They talked about their future careers that night and while she revelled about stardom and could not wait for her big break to come, he felt deep down in his heart he quite enjoyed his downtime and treasured his privacy so much more than before.

 

Over the past fortnight tabloids had surfaced with photographs of the both of them strolling around the city. Take-away coffee cups in hand, her face beaming with pure joy while he apparently explained something. Tabloids ate it up: _‘Tom Hiddleston in love with mystery blonde!’._ While the next day a different picture – from the same walk – would surface where he had a more solemn expression. Consequently headlines dubbed _‘Trouble in paradise’_ as tabloids made up stories about absolutely fictional hiccups with family and management.

Tom would have been lying if he’d said he didn’t contemplate on Sadie as being a potential love interest. His heart was open, his mind curious for new possibilities.

He enjoyed the fact she carelessly linked her arm through his before heading outside. She did not seem to take notice of paparazzi or photographers.

Or did she?

The simple fact that she would be associated with him _did_ create publicity towards her name. Publicity that was welcome for an aspiring actress, which he was very understanding towards. But the fact she kept on connecting with him…. was that for PR benefits or her own romantic benefit? Tom hated how this had turned into a question that haunted his mind, but reality had taught him a hard lesson or two in that department.

 

  
Sadie smiled and giggled and twirled faux curls around her index finger while she talked about modern dance and contemporary music. She awed over the fact that Tom had been all over ‘the world’ and seemed anxious to do so as well.

On paper she was perfect, on his arm however… something was missing. He could not put his finger on it, but he felt it nevertheless. With Emma's critical comments in mind, Tom considered whether or not he might have been overreacting. He was well aware he did need to open up or loosen up if he wanted to give anything or anyone a fair chance. However that was easier said than done. True, his mindset was open, he was sociable, interacting, but also to a certain degree. Just up until a specific point and then no more.

 

When the shared cab pulled up in front of her flat, he saw no reason not to take her up on her offer for another drink in the privacy of her home. She lived in a small yet cosy flat that overlooked Finsbury Park. A side table displayed a stack of magazines consisting of Hello!, OK!, People and Cosmopolitan as well as a range of programs for the local Theatres this season.

Tom took a seat on the small IKEA sofa while she poured them a couple of drinks. The apartment was clearly decorated on a limited budget, but very nicely so. When she suggested Tom to put on some music, he gladly accepted the challenge, he was more than eager to busy himself. However it did prove to be a bit of a challenge as Tom had no desire (nor patience) to Bluetooth connect to whatever internet playlist and Sadie’s CD-collection was quite limited. This was clearly a girl of the iTunes-era; he joked to himself. He rummaged around in search of a decent CD, when his eyes fell on the tabloid thrown on the floor next to the sofa. His eyes came across a certain familiar name in print “ _Charlotte Daniël, who is she and why you want to dress like her.”_

Tom smiled to himself as he scanned the narrative that applauded her stylish summer outfits. He couldn’t blame the journalist at hand, she looked wonderful in the snapshots they’d published. At which point Sadie returned with 2 chilled glasses of gin-tonic, a dazzling smile and the promise of a lovely evening.

_Don’t fight this Tom. Sadie’s lovely_

Nevertheless, an hour later he already found himself on the threshold, saying goodbye.

Sadie smiled kindly and thanked him for a lovely evening and a wonderful collaboration. He good heartedly enveloped the delicate blonde into an amicable hug. And as they hugged, they lingered. The both of them. Lasting perhaps a bit longer than one should. Tom did wonder how her lips might feel on his. It would only take a little tilt of his head to find out, but he found he couldn’t or wouldn’t. It didn’t feel right. He apologised to Sadie for ending the night prematurely, blamed the fatigue and was on his way.

_She’s lovely, but not for me…_

And so he walked home in the sultry night, deep in thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Feedback always (and very much) appreciated. I would love to know what you think! ;-)


	9. Chapter Eight : Airport Intermezzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt -  
> He found it were just those little things he was longing for. And it was not at all that crazy; those things he wanted. They were simple things really. Someone to talk to. Someone to come home to. Someone to disappear with. Maybe even, on a good day he pondered, someone to belong to...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Bonus : there is an pinterest moodboard (which I keep updated with each chapter that rolls along)  
> \--> https://www.pinterest.co.uk/theheartofpenelope  
> * You can also follow me (and this story) on tumblr (link on my dashboard)

 

**Chapter Eight  
Airport intermezzo**

 

**1\. Hell**

Charlotte pulled her carry-on luggage around the airport hall while desperately searching for her gateway. Up until now her day had been nothing short of vile or just plain dreadful.

It all started when woke to find she had - albeit slightly - overslept. Upon that awful discovery she’d immediately launched herself into a frenzy to make up for all the time lost, cursing badly and loudly while doing so. You see, she was on a very tight schedule - timewise - today; with first a train and nearly consecutively a plane to catch. Charlotte was expected for a discourse in Geneva. And the fact that she would be flying back home later on that very same day left her with simply no time for this kind of nonsense and no patience to deal with any of it either…

Oh no, this was definitely not the way she had imagined started her day. She did, however, get to count her lucky blessings when her train conveniently got delayed...  
By that point the adrenaline had nevertheless been rushing through her veins, pushing her nerves to unhealthy high peaks.

 

When she’d finally made it to the airport, it was only barely past 10.30 but the weather was already well beyond hot. She huffed and puffed, yet felt stubbornly confident she might just about make it to her flight in time.

Her heels clicked along the gatehouse and she inwardly cursed herself for not slipping into a pair of sneakers when she scurried from her house earlier and made a mental note to start packing a pair at every single occasion, no matter how short her stay would be…  

Finally spotting her gate, Charlotte rushed to the queue to board. She’d made it - just barely though - but she’d made it. Desperately catching her breath, she flashed a kind smile to those furrowing their brows at her; the flushed woman panting in line. However she could care less at that point...

 

But then, Murphy.  Murphy and his stupid law… As if fate just refused to let Charlotte get back at ease, the steward proceeded to announce a 50-minute delay through the speakers and Charlotte spontaneously cursed all deities. Out loud. With passion. Frowns from bystanders turned into aggravation. Oh yes, this particular day was just getting worse and worse. Charlotte muttered terms of annoyance while turning on her heels towards the overpriced airport-bar in search of a refreshment. All that rushing had left her parched and severely frustrated, but right now mostly parched.  

Standing at the bar Charlotte checked her watch while she wondered whether or not it was too early for a glass of chilled wine but ultimately opted against it. The odds weren’t in her favour today, that much was quite clear by now. Tempting fate some more with a glass of alcohol would not be a wise decision.

When the waiter smoothly slid Charlotte her beverage over the perfectly polished counter, he politely refused her to pay for it and kindly informed her,  
_“Compliments du monsieur à l’arrière.” (*)  
_

Charlotte closed her eyes and sighed before unleashing some very unkind words to nobody in particular. _God no!_ Frustrated or not, now she would _have_ to be kind, to look back and smile appreciatively, possibly engage in some small talk (which would be sexist no doubt, seeing the turn her day had been taking so far), while in silence all she would hope for was for her flight to depart sooner rather than later.

 

_(*) compliments of the gentleman in the back._

 

**2\. Purgatory**

Tom sat stirring a spoon in his coffee while counting down the minutes. He was nervous, anxious, on edge. Luke had snuck away a few minutes earlier, on the account of picking up ‘a little something’ in the tax free shop while they waited on their plane.

Tom placed his elbows on the table in front of him and upon inhaling, rested his head in his hands, his fingers firmly adding pressure on the bridge of his nose. He groaned and sighed. Barely back home and he was already travelling to and fro again. It was what he wanted though, wasn’t it? This particular trip was his idea, no? He couldn’t remember....

  
Long ago he had made the _very_ conscious decision to fully invest in his professional career; to submerge himself in it, to stroke the iron while it was hot. It was, without doubt, the best decision he’d ever made. Even if it meant his emotional life would have to remain shelved for a while.

He’d started out his path full of good intentions and promises though. And also truly and faithfully in love with his girlfriend at the time, an aspiring actress just like him. It was a perfect match really. She understood the trials and tribulations that came with the acting territory like no other because she lived the exact same life. They were so alike, so in tune. Paradoxically their relationship proved powerless in its crusade against time and geography.

It hurt like hell, there was no denying in that. But very soon Tom felt how the advantages outweighed the disadvantages in that particular stage of his life. Without a lover to take into account it was suddenly very easy to be the first one to arrive on set in the morning and the last one to leave in the evening. No pressure, no guilt. And he made the best out of his situation. _When life gives you lemons_ … right.  
With a kind word for everyone who crossed his path, no matter their place on the social ladder, he gave every project his all and more. Every time again. It was no surprise, except maybe to himself, that quite soon he became well known for his strong work ethic. And pretty soon he’d secured himself of a breakthrough role along his already golden reputation.

 

Tom sighed and ran his hand through his curly hair which was longer now. He had made the conscious decision to grow it out, as if he wanted to shed the burden of Hollywood’s clean-shaven and neatly trimmed posterboy-looks in plain sight, for everyone to see.  
He longed to hold his own reigns again, especially now, when his life had (seemingly overnight) turned into quite the rollercoaster.  
His hand proceeded to slip over his chin, where it caressed his beard softly, yet another ‘in your face’ to the industry, as he contemplated his fate.

Looking back he could see a very promising career was now slowly coming into bloom, yet it did not warm his heart the way he had expected it to. His professional prosperity thrilled him of course, but it saddened him there was nobody to share it with.

Well, naturally his mother was _extremely_ proud of her son, even his father came around. Tom’s sisters teased him relentlessly when he was nominated for a 'rear of the year' or sortlike award, but also supported him in earnest and with pride. His friends and colleagues were warm, generous and true. And he much enjoyed meeting up with them, just talking over drinks or just laughing over banalities.

But when he would touch down at home, _really_ touch down, after sleeping off the fatigue he found the silence in his house was deafening. It was his house and a beautiful one at that, but it did not feel like a home.  
To feel like a home he would perhaps have to spend more time in it. Enter Bobby. A soulful companion to Tom’s heart. A soft pitter patter that broke the silence in the house. A four-legged companion that required attention and who had become very good at taking Tom’s preoccupied mind off of things. Tom adored the faithful creature with all his heart, but it wasn't enough somehow. Although Bobby was a truly great listener, when he wasn't hungry. A very patient listener even, particularly after an early morning jog that would leave the poor mutt happy but exhausted. Bobby had the most earnest twinkling eyes, and he did give the best cuddles, but he was a dog. Let's face it.

  
Remnants of characters portrayed had started to stain Tom’s soul over time, ready to haunt him on the occasional sleepless night. However he would never let it get it to him. Not really. He was adamant about that, but it was getting harder lately and he didn't quite know why.

Maybe it was the fact that reuniting with his friends back home after rounding up a project would, without fault, lead him to the conclusion (again) that their lives had moved on further, while he was still standing still.

It was fairly strange; a lot of emotions had run through Tom professionally. From happiness to grief and from loss to absolute bliss. But in his personal life he had nothing to show for any of it.

It hadn't bothered him before really, but after the umpteenth wedding party, baby celebration and whatnot he felt it would have been nice to have someone to share it all with. The single's table was getting smaller with each and every occasion. And his thirties were making a rash progress.

It's not that he didn't feel successful, because he did. Only… loneliness fell upon him like a heavy blanket these days. Silly really. Here was a man who virtually had (or could have) everything he would wish for to make him happy, and yet…..

He found it were just those little things he was longing for. And it was not at all that crazy; those things he wanted. They were simple things really. Someone to talk to. Someone to come home to. Someone to disappear with. Maybe even, on a good day he pondered, someone to belong to... 

Someone smart but down-to-earth, someone passionate and ambitious but not overly so, someone who was easy on the eye without even trying, someone who appreciated the little things with him, like he would appreciate in her. Someone with a heart of gold...

 

He rested in his chin in his propped up arm again as he lazily and boredly scanned the area. The business men getting their ristretto-fix, the tourists wandering around curiously, noses up in the air in amazement. A flustered woman rushing to the bar, dressed to the nines but clearly frustrated, in need of a break. _Join the club,_ he huffed.

His eyes remained on her though. Was it a daydream when he thought he saw _her_? Sitting up straight he studied her silhouette. Her long brown hair had been tied up in a loose braid, her left hand rubbed the back of her neck as she installed herself on a barstool implicating she was stressed and tired. She was even more beautiful than he remembered.

 

**3\. Heaven**

Tom snorted slightly when he saw her snapping her head back when the waiter pointed into his direction.  
2 seconds. Just 2 seconds and Charlotte’s severe and annoyed frown had melted into a broad smile. She curtsied him in good fun.  

Tom’s eyes fell onto her curves as she made her way towards him, drinks and carry-on luggage in tow. A flowing blue dress, matching high heels, sunglasses in her hair. He gestured his appreciation to her clothes. She rolled her eyes but instantly radiated with a dazzling smile.

“Hello there stranger,” her eyes darted over Tom’s suited appearance as he unfolded himself from his chair, “you clean up quite nice yourself.”

“Well, well, well, who do we have here,” he murmured quietly into her ear before greeting her with a kiss on the cheek.

“What on earth brings you here?”

“Well, I could ask you the same thing….”

Charlotte followed his invitation to sit at his table and casually dropped her belongings on the tabletop. A boarding pass held her page in the book she’d been reading, motioning to it she kindly informed him; “Geneva, I got delayed for 50 minutes.”

Tom titled his head to the side to get a proper look at the book instead and smiled when he noticed the author was in fact Paulo Coelho.  

“You finished the Alchemist?” he deducted, “I would ask you if you liked it, but it seems the answer to that question is pretty obvious,”

“Oh don’t get me started… there are no words, I think I fell in love with it,” Charlotte took a gulp of cool water, “honestly, if that book was a tall and handsome dark stranger,…”

Tom chortled, then flashed her his pass, “Mallorca, technical issues.”

When Charlotte scrunched her nose, he was quick to add, “What? Mallorca is nice. Ever been?”

“Technical difficulties,” she winced, “you’d have to drag me on the plane kicking and screaming.”

 

There, so easy to talk to. She felt like coming home. Familiar. Calming, reassuring.

He laid eyes on her again. It had only been a few weeks since he’d seen her last. But it felt so comfortable and pleasant to sit with her again. It was an enjoyable and very welcome surprise.

When she informed how his downtime was coming along, he humorously confessed he might be suffering from withdrawal.

“It’s strange,” he elaborated, “for the longest of time I’ve actually yearned for this. To be able to slow down. To be the only one in charge of my diary. To reunite with friends, quality time with family.”

Charlotte frowned and expressed her concern that surely he wasn’t tired of his leave already, now was he? Tom cast his eyes to his half-empty coffee cup and sighed.  
“No, most definitely not. Only, it’s quite confronting.”

“They say you are confronted with yourself while on the road alone?” Charlotte cursed herself as she realised this comment could very well boomerang back into her own face but was all the more glad Tom took no notice of it.

“Which is true; let me tell you that,” he agreed, “but to me, the confrontation back home with friends and family is proving to be a bit harder than I had anticipated.”

She frowned, “how’s that?”

“You see, I’ve made this choice long ago to fully invest in starting up my career. And while I don’t really regret having made that decision, I came to realise that while my career has evolved, I have not. Or maybe I have, but not on my personal level. Am I making sense?”

Charlotte smiled, she understood. Probably more than he could imagine..

“I have a house, I have a car. I have a loving family and friends….”

“You speak of a house, but not a home,” she pondered quietly.

Tom sighed, “I feel as though I’m no more than this... empty vessel. I’m good at playing the scenes and the emotions on a stage but I return to an empty home. There I said it: home. Not house,” a kind wink for her benefit.

Charlotte leant a bit more forward and searched his gaze, “but are you _happy_ Tom?”

Talk about a question you didn’t expect...Tom leaned back, slipping back into his usual guise of apologizing, only able to offer her, “oh no, I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful because I do enjoy life in general and my life in particular. But there are times that it starts to get to me.”

“Like today,” she finished his sentence, lifting a critical brow.

“Like today,” he nodded.

Charlotte paused and traced the condensation on her long drink glass, she was clearly not buying the façade and didn’t even attempt to hide her incredulity. Tom sighed and paused before finally and surprisingly letting her into his dreary trail of thoughts.

“I see love and divorce and death all around me,’ he concluded, “but when I look back at me… what do I have to show for it?”

Charlotte slanted her head, “I fear you think the grass is greener elsewhere… And I understand you hate an empty house, but running from it won’t fill it either.”

“Running? I’m not…”

Charlotte raised a brow and curtly interfered, “in the short time I’ve come to know you, you are always so busy doing something. Instead of taking a real break like the rest of us. You’re not a machine though Tom.”

 

She made him feel, not alive, but aware. She was able to pick up on emotion he thought he’d kept hidden. She forced him to name his concerns out loud. And while he would wave it off when it was his mother asking or a close friend. She didn’t seem to fit into any category just yet. But he did not, could not neglect or deflect her questions. He enjoyed talking to her and hearing her authentic reply or vision on a matter. Familiar and honest, he needed that.

“Maybe,” he paused and sighed, “I feel so guilty that I am here and I did not bring Bobby along. It’s like I desperately want _all_ these things, but I somehow can’t seem to manage it the way they should be managed.”

“Who says anything needs to be managed? Life is life. Like a river, it meanders through the scenery. There is no set path. Not the last time I checked anyway,” she chuckled.

“And I firmly believe that life guides us down a path we are meant to pass through. How we deal with it however is completely up to us.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it.”

She flashed him a playful smirk.

And then the intercom announced her flight was now boarding again.

 

  
**4\. And back again**

“That’s me,” she stated.

“Up, up and away,” he nodded solemnly.

“To infinity and beyond,” she countered with a toothy grin.

Tom chuckled, “it felt good though, to say those things out loud.”

“I know, I make a cheap therapist,” Charlotte winked in good humour as she started collecting her things, ready to make her leave.

 _Smart and down-to-earth_ , he reflected.

  
“So, I was thinking,” Tom spoke as he copied her moves. “I do believe we are both in Edinburgh at the same time...”

“Mmm?” she looked back up to him again as she rose to her feet.

“How about we just - run into each other again over there, but on purpose this time,” he suggested, “get a bite to eat, show you around. If you’d like...”

“I would,” a quiet nod, “ I think I would like that.”

She was rewarded with his warm smile and the promise that he would call her. Leaning in for the casual peck on his cheek, she felt his arms envelop her in a casual embrace. His hand soothed her back softly.  
Charlotte closed her eyes for a second as a sense of safety fell upon her. His warmth, his mesmerizing cologne, his tender yet firm hold. The last of her rushing nerves were now resolutely squandered.  

It felt as though someone had pulled her safety blanket away just to show her what she was missing out on. It felt cruel, yet soothing at the same time. The tour was really getting to her now. And Charlotte caught herself wishing for Tom to please _hold her just a little while longer._

 

 _Compassionate and easy on the eye_ , raced through his thoughts as her sweet perfume teased and he whispered,  
“I’ll see you soon.”

Slightly stepping out of their embrace, his hand traced her jawline and he leant in to place a soft kiss on her other cheek. To Charlotte it felt as though he moved in slow motion and she distinctly fell the press of his warm lips against her skin. A tingle in her stomach. She was fairly certain she forgot to kiss him back. How silly was that...

The hand she had resting upon his shoulder slid down his arm to where she bumped and then squeezed his hand. Charlotte nodded and managed to mumble, “nice seeing you.”

Mind Boggling though, how a conversation that flows so casual and easy one instant suddenly turns so anxiously tense the next.

"And you as well," Tom admitted. It was true, she was a breath of fresh air. He never realised he’d actually missed talking to her. “Have a safe flight,”

“Mmhm,” she scraped her throat, “I do hope you get on a safe plane… Enjoy your holiday,”

“Well actually, not a holiday.”

Charlotte saw her moment to step back, roll her eyes and shake her head disapprovingly while ridding herself of the sudden raging pheromones, “honestly!”

He shrugged and smiled sweetly, “goodbye Charlotte.”

“Goodbye Tom,” she slanted her head in a kind salute and off she was.

 

Luke couldn’t have chosen a better moment to stroll back into the bar. He’d furrowed his brows when he saw his client-turned-friend entangled with an unfamiliar looking woman and quickly high-tailed himself back to his booth again.

“So who was that then?” he murmured, “I leave you alone for a _split_ second…”

He stood looking around for cameras, but Tom hushed him and motioned for him to sit down and stop making a spectacle of himself.

“That was Charlotte,” his friend was smiling again. That was a good turn to the day, finally.

“Charlotte?” Luke racked his brain, “well, she does seem lovely.”

“She’s – erm, ” Tom paused and then simply nodded, “yes she is. She is.”

“And how’s Sadie?” Luke lifted a brow sarcastically.

“Sadie? Sadie doesn’t hold a candle to Charlotte.”

It was all Luke needed to hear to realize he better start gathering some information on this ‘Charlotte', whoever she was...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Feedback always (and very much) appreciated. I would love to know what you think! ;-)


	10. Chapter nine : Edinburgh, day one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> excerpt -  
> As she hurried down the hallway her eyes fell onto the sight she’d somewhat feared... A bespectacled man was reading a paperback at the door of her hotel room. There he was; casually leaning against the door case. The man who had comforted her to sleep, the same man who had urged her to Ystad to ease her mind. Was it silly of her to feel tingly all over as she set eyes on him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Bonus : there is an pinterest moodboard (which I keep updated with each chapter that rolls along)  
> \--> https://www.pinterest.co.uk/theheartofpenelope  
> * You can also follow me (and this story) on tumblr (link on my dashboard)

**  
**  
  
Chapter Nine ****  
**Edinburgh, Scotland– day one  
**   


**1.  
**July turned to August. And just like every other year Edinburgh was transformed to accommodate the Fringe Festival. Scotland’s capital was turned upside down as a wide range of performers of all arts and nationalities touched base in the city. Countless stages were being set up all over the city, ready to present spectacles of all kinds and for every taste.

This year Tom would be partaking as well, albeit for one night only. It was a childhood dream come true. He had decided to turn his stay into some sort of a city break, allowing himself some extra days on site because, well, _Fringe_ . With relatives nearby he’d been wanting to visit and a list of performances to explore he granted himself the gift of time.    
_A mini-break, Charlotte would be so proud,_ he’d laughed to himself.

  
But first and foremost, true to his words, Tom had made his arrangements to meet up with Charlotte. It had been settled that he would pick her up at her hotel after she concluded her seminar for the day. He wanted to show her the city that held plenty of his childhood memories, he wanted to introduce her to the wonderful world of Fringe - certain in every way that this would be a festival to her taste. He wanted to take her to the Theatre and see her revell in the experience as she did in London. He wanted to talk to her, spend time with her without having to keep an eye on the clock. He wanted every second, as long as it was with her.

She had been on his mind ever since he’d run into her at the airport that day. At the weirdest moments and in the strangest situations. However when Tom turned down his cousin’s invitation for an event occuring on the night he was to meet Charlotte, he was quick to inform said cousin he was just simply meeting up with someone; a friend. It was _most definitely not a date, merely a friendly get-together._ The sentence had rolled off his tongue as it had done many, _many_ , times before, in other situations, with other people. This time however the words left him somewhat hollow. _Strange_.

 

In the elevator Charlotte glanced at her watch for the umpteenth time, fully realising she was - in fact - _still_ running late. As the steel sliding doors finally opened to her floor, she rushed down the hallway on her white heels, her off white dress flowing casually along, a binder closely held to her chest while her other hand balanced her purse.

As she hurried down the hallway her eyes fell onto the sight she’d somewhat feared... A bespectacled man was reading a paperback at the door of her hotel room. There he was; casually leaning against the door case. The n who had comforted her to sleep, the same man who had urged her to Ystad to ease her mind. Was it silly of her to feel tingly all over as she set eyes on him?

If anything the setback in the seminar’s planning had been a blessing in disguise to Charlotte as it had left her with no time to stress about meeting up with Tom. The afternoon transitioned into early evening without granting her even the slightest second in which she would be able to worry about anything at all. Besides running late of course.

“I’m so sorry I made you wait,” she apologised. Tom only greeted her with a lopsided smile, urging her not to worry about any of it. They had the rest of the evening, he reasoned before greeting her with a casual peck on the cheek. Her loose hair smelled of citrus and a hint of white musk.

“Do I have time to freshen up just a little bit? Slip into something more appropriate?”

Charlotte rambled on, unaware how he cautiously admired her attire while reminding himself that this was _not a date._

 

Charlotte inserted her key card and headed into her room, wordlessly inviting him inside. And while she rummaged around in the bathroom, Tom curiously laid eyes on the books that lay scattered on her nightstand. He started flipping pages before coming across a thin hardcover book titled ‘The Amsterdam Canals’.

“See anything you like?” her gentle inquiry startled him and Charlotte quietly laughed at her realisation of it. Tom chuckled slightly and readjusted his glasses before turning his attention from the books back to her as she made her way towards him.  

“That one is for you actually,” she picked up the slim book, presenting it to him.

“I spotted it on a flea market; it’s from an Ecuadorian photographer. Thought you might like it better than the crappy shots I sent you.”

Her lips curved into a kindhearted smile as she admiringly pointed out some of her favourite images to him. However, his eyes were fixated on her rather than the book.

“Are you serious?” he gave her an incredulous look, “you shouldn’t have....”

“Hmmm, I have this thing,” she shrugged, “with books. I don’t know. An accidental discovery, I couldn’t just leave it there… ”

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” he nodded while a genuine feeling of happiness snuck up on him, “I appreciate this. Thank you.”

“Well, it’s no Paulo Coelho…” Charlotte felt a blush coming up and swiftly steered away from the subject. Buying that book had seemed an attentive gesture to her at the time, but in retrospect, maybe it had been a strange and foolish thing to do?

“So, what do you think,” she switched her hip in good fun as she fake-modeled a casual short-sleeved sweater dress, “am I good to go now?”

“You’re perfect,” the words rolled off his tongue. And it wasn’t a lie.

_Remember Tom, not a date._

 

 **2.  
** His long legs climbed the Scottish hillside at a _very_ steady pace; Charlotte suspected this was a regular visit to him. Had to be. She gave herself thumbs up for wearing a pair of sneakers while she marched up the (sometimes not so gentle) slope. She may have lost the benefit of added height, but was ever more grateful for gaining the ability to ease through the brisk climb.

Tom was clearly in his element and this amused her greatly. He explained how Edinburgh was built on seven hills and Charlotte was thankful they would only be climbing up one that evening. It was clear she had been sitting too much these days. All these seminars were a professional blessing, but a physical curse. This, combined with the heat wave, has created this bizarre yearning in her mind to go swimming, not climbing hills. But she had no say in this tonight. She’d agreed to letting him surprise her with what he reckoned a ‘sightseeing-de-luxe’. He made her promise to not take any notice of the view while climbing up, but to allow herself to get surprised at the summit. And who has she to deny him of this - obviously _great_ \- pleasure?

 

“So this one, is called Arthur’s Seat and they say it’s a sleeping dragon,” Tom elaborated  “An old Celtic story says that a dragon used to fly around the sky, terrorising the region and eating all the livestock. Eventually it ate so much, that one day it lay down, went to sleep, and never woke up again.”

It wasn’t hard to imagine his inner 10 year old that still awed over the legend.

Charlotte smiled to herself, taking in all the information while playfully addressing him as ‘Tourguide Tom’ for the rest of the hike. It had only spurred him on though; under a thick Scottish accent he directed her attention to St. Anthony’s Chapel, the Royal Mile, etc.

“Ye ken, traditionally oan main day, yoong kimmers woods climb th' hillside an' wash their coopon in th' dew,” he continued with a smirk, “legend has is 'at thes woods keep them lookin' yoothful an' bonnie.” (*)

 

 

 

> (*) “You know, traditionally on May Day, young women would climb the hillside and wash their face in the dew. Legend has it that this would keep them looking youthful and beautiful.”

It might as well have been Chinese to Charlotte. While she did have English under her belt, the Scottish dialect was just a bit too far out of her reach. Except for maybe some easy basics…  

“Ur ye feckin' kiddin' me?!”

If anything, Tom did not see this one coming. His hand flew to his chest, he threw his head back and laughed. Loudly and without reservation.

“Com’n then love,” Tom tittered on, while guiding Charlotte up the hill for those last few feet.

Charlotte chuckled along. He seemed so happy, carefree, a bit flirty, probably without trying to be. He was in good spirits and it was quite catchy...

 

Against all of her expectations, the summit was quite touristy. A lot of vacationers promenaded around, their cameras in hand while they were alternatively in awe of the view and anxious to take that perfect vacation picture so they could relive the moment at home.

But when she herself was standing near the edge of that particular hillside, Charlotte finally understood; the view was nothing short of spectacular. She fell silent at the sight of Edinburgh at her feet, the old city centre was buzzing with activity, with mood lighting everywhere. The people down below were crawling all over the streets like ants, the cars and bicycles seemed almost toy-like.

She heard Tom approaching behind her. It sounded like a gentle sigh escaped his lips, mere moments before she heard him quietly murmuring into her ear, “Now if I remember this well, you are a sea girl before anything else…,”

In their messages post-Hamburg he had learned about Charlotte’s affinity with water. With the sound of crashing waves, the effect of the surf that could always, _always_ calm her down and relax. Something about childhood memories and Oyster Festival Parades (But she hated oysters. It cracked him up.). Also something with boats, the sounds of the marina. He never told her, but that was exactly why he’d urged her to Ystad. Out of the city. Closer to nature. In a cottage close to the beach; the promise of a deserted shore where you could sit for hours on end just enjoying the silence...   

He gently placed his hands over her upper arms and guided her a bit to the right, changing her position so her eyes could catch the entire panoramic view he had in mind.

“You need the full perspective,” he whispered.

WIth a gasp Charlotte noted the ocean coming within view; the dull cry of seagulls in the distance, little boats making their way back to the safe harbour.

“Oh my…”

“Yah,” a proud smile and he nodded. “I couldn’t bare the thought of you visiting Edinburgh and not coming up here.”

“Something tells me you couldn’t bare the thought of not coming up here yourself.”

Tom looked at her out of the corner of his eye and chuckled as he admitted to her speculation with an ambiguous nod.  

> _“There is pleasure in the pathless woods,_  
>  _there is rapture in the lonely shore,_  
>  _there is society where none intrudes,_  
>  _by the deep sea and music in its roar;_  
>  _I love not Man the less, but Nature more._

Charlotte, however, could only frown at Lord Byron’s beautiful poetry, and declared that she knew melancholy when she saw it. A lazy smile curved among Tom’s lips as he cast his eyes down, “And how are _you_?”

“Don’t digress, _Tourguide Tom_ ,”

“Says the evasive lawyer,” he quickly retorted.

“Not evasive,” she defended; a caring sympathy lingering in her voice, “I was just first.”

“Are we five?” he cocked his eyebrow in good fun, which promptly urged a giggle from Charlotte.

 

She looked upon him gleefully and he wondered what it was that made her feel so… familiar and honest and ‘good’?

“What is wìth you today?” Charlotte chortled, “someone ought to teach you manners again. Am I going to speak with your mysterious blonde over this?”

Tom shook his head with a laugh as he quickly retorted the mystery blonde was simply not for him. It had been a casual answer but it didn’t make Charlotte feel any less mortified for mentioning it. Tom sweetly shrugged Charlotte’s apology off. Because there was nothing here to be sorry about. Not one thing at all…

“But,” he raised his index finger proudly, “you will be happy to know that I’m taking a mini-break. Right now.”

“You’re not!” she exclaimed excitedly, “Finally! Is that why you’re so…”

“So? So what?” he curved his brow comically, “Oh really, finish that sentence for me now.”

Charlotte cackled and admitted she’d rather not. “Oh my, but you’re really doing it. Slowing down. Zoning out. _La dolce far niente…”_ she teased while rubbing her arms.  
Strands of her hair circled around, dancing freely on the fickle wind.

“Are you cold, darling?” he ran his hand over her back, but Charlotte only shook her head, “Nah, only surprised how much cooler it is up here. Brisk breeze here,”

“I should’ve told you, it’s always quite windy up here…” he pondered for a little while, “What do you think - Fish and chips?”

Charlotte threw her head back, in an attempt to shake her long tresses out of her face and dramatically bellowed, “God yes!”  
After days and days of fancy food and finger sandwiches, fish and chips was just perfect. The ideal amount of grease and calories and she was up for it.

He winked and slanted his head to announce their descent.

“There,” he inched nearer and ran his hand from the top of her head to her sides, brushing her hair down as he did, “you look like a rockstar.”

There he was, it was as if the clouds had somehow lifted and she for the first time saw him for who he really was. All pretences stripped away. Nothing but his friendly charm, his familiar support, she felt as if she was coming home to an old friend. She could feel his body radiate as they stood close and noted how a soft frown came over him, his eyes scanning her expression.

Her heart skipped a beat. Actually more than one.

_Oh, for Pete’s sake! Pull yourself together, Charlotte!_

 

She was acutely aware of their proximity and the crazy things it started doing to her, she was even more aware of individuals that kept on roaming around, closer and closer still.

“I erm,” she croaked, “I think you have been spotted,” she raised an eyebrow.

“You think?” a frown of disbelief came over him. This was Scotland, he was good in Scotland. There were no paparazzi here. Or were there?

“I erm, I spy some hesitation, I think they’re going to come up closer to make sure,” her eyes concernedly flashed back at him. Beautiful dark orbs mirroring nothing but honesty and concern. So Tom nodded.

 

  
**3.**  
And, in fact, the small group did just what Charlotte had carefully predicted. As usual, Tom was polite and charming. He offered the vacationists a kind word but rapidly apologized himself to the group when he’d noticed Charlotte had started the descent on her own. Though he found it really defined her and her headstrong, independent, I’ll-be-just-fine-attitude, in his heart this was just not right.

Unbeknownst to him, Charlotte’s heart had been beating rapidly in her chest. And the overwhelming need to shake the nonsense out of her head demanding her to do something about it. And soon. So she started walking downhill, rubbing her arms along the way and taking deep breaths while repeating her new mantra in her head.

_Oh dear, oh my, do not make a fool out of yourself, Charlotte!_

 

She was thankful though, when Tom caught up with her again and escorted her further down the hillside where he proceeded to gladly introduce her to one of his favourite fish and chips shops. It took her mind off her recent embarrassment and, truth be told much more than this, it stilled the appetite she’d been nurturing during the hike.

To Tom it was clear the woman had no shame in enjoying her food. At all. He liked that. And promptly ordered them a couple of Brewdog’s brown beer, because _‘if you’re doing this, you have to do this right.’_

Charlotte had her eyes lowered and focused on skewering chips onto her fork when she casually slipped that she was grateful for him taking her around town and curiously questioned him about Fringe. He gladly and enthusiastically informed her.

 

When they finally set foot into the centre of Edinburgh, ready to immerse themselves into the experience of the Fringe Festival, the amount of visitors in the streets dizzied her. Charlotte had jokingly mumbled she’d go wherever he would lead, _Tourguide Tom,_ just as long he wouldn’t lose her in the crowd.

And so - after only a few minutes mingling in the streets, he’d wordlessly grabbed a hold of her hand. Without looking. She was sure his only agenda was to guide her safely through the mass in the streets.  
His hand was large and warm and held onto hers with a caring confidence. Charlotte was surprised at the gesture, but gladly succumbed to it. How could a gesture so small, result to an effect this grand? Oh god, this would not end well.

_Don’t let go._

 

 

 **4.  
**Tom safely led Charlotte through the crowds on the streets, towards venues she would not be able to find on her own given the chance. Charlotte looked around in amazement at the liveliness of the city and its visitors, willingly following Tom wherever he guided her.

He explained there were a few acts he thought she might enjoy and led the way and Charlotte followed curiously. The venue was - she guessed - an old concert building. Obviously no longer in use. Shame though. It was dark and crowded. The audience was quite diverse which left her utterly clueless on what she was to expect. The viewers were elated though and anxious. An intriguing start…

He ushered her further down the parterre and towards the front of the stage, where she would closer to the music and away from the blinking neons that blinded her and left her under his control. Not that he minded doing just that.

He turned to the right as they got closer to the podium and asked her if she would be alright standing there. She noted it would leave them with a close view of the performers, but they also escaped the harsh lighting thanks to the overlooking balcony, which she did not mind at all.

 

Relatively soon the spotlights died down and the hall was enclosed into shades of blue. Spotlights brought the audience attention up to the ceiling. Tom however could not help but sneak a peek at her, curious towards her experience, just to see if he had made the right choice with this. Would she be enjoying herself? 

He could see her look up above the stage with big curious eyes, and how her lips slowly curved themselves into a wondrous smile as a pair of aerial ballet dancers came tumbling down.

Her smile was only getting wider and wider by the second as she watched the performers play and as the amazement of their craft settled in.  
She was rapt, there was no denying that.

That smile was all he longed to see. An emotion came across his heart. Not the sense of pride he was expecting, this was different.

Tom brought his gaze back onto the scene himself, until he felt her eyes on him mere seconds later and wordlessly drawing him in. They sparkled and it was all the answer he’d ever needed. They exchanged the broad smile she thanked him with. 

Her eyes conveyed beauty, wondrous amazement, appreciation and pure delight. It warmed his heart because he felt just the same, just looking at her.

 

The dancers swept the audience away, moving them from cautious emotion to elation and from grief to hope with such a flexible ease.

When the male dancer came tumbling down, some of the spectators gasped and Charlotte was no exception. Her hand was covering her mouth and Tom instinctively ran his hand over her spine, inching closer to ask her if she was alright. She merely nodded, never taking her eyes off the stage.

When the music swelled, implying the woman would follow the man’s path suit, Tom could swear he felt Charlotte tensing up under his gentle touch.

A closer look indeed revealed her hesitating whether or not to keep looking. She ultimately squeezed her eyes shut and turned around slightly, gratefully clasping her hands over his forearms. The viewers gasped once more and she immediately scanned Tom’s expression for clues.

“What happened?"

But Tom only stood, gawking at the stage in stupor.

"What happened?" she pressed on before eventually turning her head back to see what it was that had the crowd whispering and gasping behind her back.

She heard Tom, brought back out of his daze, softly whispering “I thought you didn’t want to see this…?”

_Dirty tease._

“I’m curious,” she defended as she looked back up to him again, “also, you were no help at all.”

“I’ve gathered that by now,” his lips gently brushed her ear as he mumbled on.

“It’s a problem, I know,” she sighed, “but I have to… else I’ll just imagine the worst.”

“You’ll _imagine_ the worst?” he tilted an eyebrow in good humour.

“My imagination is my worst nightmare, I’m afraid…” her eyes twinkled as she joked.

 

She could feel his eyes settle on her while he suppressed a laugh. Suddenly she was well aware of the fact that his hand had remained on the small of her back and her hands still clasped over his forearm. She found herself teetering on that fine line between composure and absolute surrender again. How could she not? After spending this perfect night with this charming man...

Glancing back up at him, only to find him looking right back at her, she wondered if she was balancing this thin border alone or not.  
It didn’t help that the music was compelling, or the fact that shades of blue enhanced the mystery within his handsome features.

 

Charlotte’s eyes travelled from his eyes to his lips. Everything about him called her in. Even hours prior, on Arthur’s Seat. Like a moth to a flame. She felt her pulse racing, her heartbeat deafening her ears.

She could vaguely see his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to say something but last-minute decided against it. Did he lean in closer or did she? She failed to remember. All she realised was that at some point she was close enough to feel her nose brushing against his cheek while her thumbs softly stroked his arms.

Her lips seemed to search out his but neglected to kiss them, instead they hovered over his as if to sense whether they would fit, whether he would consent? Her eyes fluttered shut when she finally did dare to sweep her lips onto his.

It felt as if the world suddenly had stopped turning, as if all sound had left the venue and nothing else existed apart from them. There. Together.

It was silly, impulsive maybe, but there was no way running back from it now. And if all went to hell, well then, let it. At least she would feel no regret. After a while.

 

When her lips left his, she stood frozen for a moment, eyes closed, afraid to move, afraid to break the spell and afraid of how he might react. 

Images of the World Cup Semi Final Party drift back into her mind. Sensations of a satisfying, yet tipsy kiss. Much less chaste than the one they shared now. But just like that night, she pulled back a little. And when she did dare to search his eyes again, she found they simply glistened at her in honesty; radiating warmth and looking at her lovingly.

His thumb grazed her soft lips. His weight shifted closer and she swore she heard him whispering her name while the distance between them was closed once more. He moved his fingers along her jaw, sliding them into the side of her hair when his lips captured hers in return. 

Charlotte gladly and unreservedly surrendered to him, to his warmth, his taste, his scent and his touch. She adored how those first few kisses just lingered, although remaining featherlight before their eager lips parted, longing and desperate for so much more.

She easily moulded herself to his rhythm, her fingers drifting over the skin of his neck and proceeding to ghost over his bearded skin.  

 

She adored the fact that his hands gently but firmly enclosed themselves around her waist, so he could hold her against his own body. Cradling her so devotedly moments before they both lost themselves in a very amorous embrace. She felt as though her heart might burst.

_Good lord.  
Don’t stop. _

 

The sound of an enthusiastic applause in the venue brought them both back to earth quickly, cruelly ending their passionate embrace.

As the outside world started to slowly seep back in, Tom rested his forehead against Charlotte’s, basking in the sensation of her hand that still remained splayed out on his chest. His fingers combed through her hair and he relished her sweet perfume that enticed him ever so much.

“We seem to have a knack for bad timing,” he chuckled to her amusement.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Feedback always (and very much) appreciated. I would love to know what you think! ;-)


	11. Chapter ten : Edinburgh, early day two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt -  
> "He wanted her, needed her close, not ready to let her go just yet. The fact that they couldn’t act on this in public was torture. He nuzzled her neck and almost immediately felt her respond lovingly. Clearly, he was not alone in this agony." 
> 
> (if you don't like smut, skip part 4. If you do like smut, read part 4 twice and tell me ... too much? *polishes halo*)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Bonus : there is an pinterest moodboard (which I keep updated with each chapter that rolls along)  
> \--> https://www.pinterest.co.uk/theheartofpenelope  
> * You can also follow me (and this story) on tumblr (link on my dashboard)

****

**Chapter Ten :**

**Edinburgh – early day two**

  
**1.**  
As if the cruel temptation of having him so near but not being able to act upon impulses wasn’t enough… Charlotte effectively had to see Tom disappear into a cocoon; going into hiding behind a polished and flawless facade when professional acquaintances heartily greeted him, congratulating him on his latest project and promptly questioning his future plans.  
  
It was oddly conflicting and confusing to Charlotte, seeing as nearly 10 minutes ago her lips had been on his, and his on hers. Amorously so. He had taken her hand in his again and with a boyish grin laid eyes on her once more before guiding her out into the hallway of the venue. Ready to go somewhere, anywhere, where they could just ‘be’.  
  
However this was Edinburgh, and this wàs the Fringe Festival. And being an actor, it really wasn’t that unlikely that Tom would run into a familiar face sooner or later. Just like it wasn’t that abnormal that Charlotte would run into some newly-familiarized faces; professionals she’d gotten acquainted with during the latest seminars. It wasn’t ideal, but then again life never is.  
  
Charlotte looked down at her hand in surprise when someone clasped her fingers around a chilled glass of champagne. _“Cheers love!”_ , someone addressed her.  
Like a fish in the water Tom smiled, accepted the drink offered to him and returned the toast. For Charlotte, however, the world was suddenly turning a bit too fast.  
  
Nobody knew who Charlotte was, nor did they really care for it. Or so it seemed. Although Tom did kindly introduce her to those who wanted to hear. And she was kindly included into a conversation she found had no reason to be in, with people she didn’t know and a fidgety but polite Tom by her side.  
  
Such was the juxtaposition of a renowned actor, she mused as she quickly scanned his features while sipping the chilled flute of champagne. Still, it dizzied her a bit and while she cared for both Toms, she longed for the private one to reveal himself again. Preferably soon.  
  
  
**2**.  
Tom was well aware of the duality of the situation and searched for Charlotte around him, wanting to share both his regret and his apologies. He wanted, no he found he _needed_ to make absolutely clear that there was no foul play on his behalf. That there could be no misunderstanding that _this_ was most definitely _not_ what he had in mind.  
  
Their kiss had left him reeling as well. Because this kiss was real, it felt ‘true’. Spontaneous, yet well-intended. Not at all like the drunken mishap last month, but a heartfelt surrender to whatever it was that had them pulling towards each other. It was all so ‘new’, both expected and unexpected.  
His heart was overjoyed, his mind enchanted and his body suddenly so impatiently hungry for her and her embrace, her arms, her hands, the scent of her sweet perfume, the softness of her warm lips onto his again, … Tom genuinely longed for nothing more than the world to stand still, granting him time and more privacy for the both of them than this place ever could offer. If only he could escape sooner…  
  
Finally settling his gaze onto her, he discovered Charlotte had bumped into some colleagues herself and was laughing heartily among and with them. She blended in so well. It only added to the guilt.  
  
His attention was turned back to his own conversation, where he nodded politely before sharing a laugh. Fuck. He was stuck already. Between professional and private life.  
_Good lord Hiddleston, get yourself together._  
  
With a sigh, he resolutely finished his drink, hoping the director he was currently talking to would be equally understanding as he was eloquent. While this was a conversation he’d desperately longed for, the crowd they found themselves in was chaotic, happy and loud. It clouded his otherwise so precise attention. Or was that her doing?  
Tom dared to take his chance, and politely explained the eminent director he was, alas, otherwise engaged for the rest of the evening. And so Tom apologetically announced his early departure, but not before extending the amiable man an invitation to his performance the very next evening. With a gentle nod the director agreed, insisting they would ‘talk shop’ afterwards like the snazzy middle-aged man liked to call it. It was everything Tom could have hoped for and Tom thanked him heartily.  
  
He then subsequently tried reaching out to Charlotte discreetly, scraping his throat gently and brushing the back of his hand against hers, only to see her eyes flick back to him disclosing both her surprise and her warm friendliness. They exchanged a short smile, trying to reassure the other that they really were ‘alright’.  
  
Tom respectfully and humorously begged the group for their forgiveness on his intrusion but he hàd promised to offer a certain lady the Tour of Fringe… It clearly amused Charlotte who promptly bid her goodbyes to the group before joining him on his path.  
  
She playfully whispered into his ear that her colleagues had been asking her if she’d won a competition of some sort. Tom only chuckled in delight wondering what competition hé had won as they left the venue together, yet at a friendly distance. PR-wise picture perfect. _You’re welcome, Luke._  
  
  
**3.**  
They managed to somehow maintain their distance as they strolled through the streets of Edinburgh that evening, setting their sights on all sorts of street performers. No hands were held anymore, but there was the odd brushing up against each other whenever or wherever possible. Not at all hard when walking amongst crowds. Charlotte bit her lip and glanced down to prevent herself from giggling out loud while Tom mischievously grinned and looked up the other way, trying to maintain his innocence. It was your basic silly teenager material but _oh lord it felt so good._  
  
When Charlotte spotted one of the marching giants of the ‘Royal de Luxe’-company, she reached for his hand and wordlessly tugged Tom along.  
“I know this,” she finally told him while pointing up to the giant portraying a little girl; a gigantic puppet that was made to walk so smoothly by a dozen people. Strange, how the magic of the walking ‘puppet’ instantly made you overlook the enormous amount of people working those giants.  
  
“She’s looking for her uncle, the Diver. He lost his hand and ….” As Charlotte elaborated Tom stepped in closer behind her, his chest against her spine. He had to give to her, the sight was nothing short of spectacular. All spectators were in absolute awe, looking up at the performance in awe. Perfect. Tom felt at ease at the fact there were no eyes on him when looked towards Charlotte and sweetly kissed the croak of her neck while she was admiring the marching giants. A fleeting, tender imprint of his warm lips on her delicate skin. An affirmation of his fondness of her.     
  
He wanted her, needed her close, not ready to let her go just yet. The fact that they couldn’t act on this in public was torture. He nuzzled her neck and almost immediately felt her respond lovingly. Clearly, he was not alone in this agony.  
  
Upon seeing the giants passing them by, he swiftly led her away before anyone else could notice them. They moved through a mass of spectators, in the opposite direction no less, towards the labyrinth of Edinburgh’s wee, wonderful alleyways. Tom had scoundered these passages so many times before, he knew them like the back of his hand. And he knew they would allow them to climb the steps back to her hotel in privacy, secrecy even.    
  
Charlotte chuckled as she followed his fast pace. All the more thankful when they finally came to a halt in a small alleyway. Here there was room to move, room to breathe, room to look into his eyes again without reservation.  
  
“Better here,” he smiled, “no?”  
“Much,” she agreed as she slid her hand into his awaiting one before climbing up the first steps, “as long as you know the way…”  
  
He assured her he did while leading her through a close and then up another alleyway which was even more breathtaking than the one before. And nearly deserted, except for that couple of tourists who were making their descent. Tom would clearly hear Charlotte holding her breath momentarily but he gladly turned to her, stepping her back onto a dark threshold where he wordlessly pulled her into a very longing kiss. Charlotte moaned in surprised delight, her fingers fisting the textile of his shirt into her eager hands, while his lips cleverly filled her in exactly how badly he had been wanting to kiss her within that last hour.    
  
She could hear the passing tourists chuckling at their foolish amorous display, however never any the wiser who in fact they had just crossed. And with renewed fervour at that discovery she gladly ran her hand from the nape of his neck up through his soft curls, before softly teasing her tongue over his upper lip. The alley may have been dimly light, but she could distinctly see - and feel - his lips turning into a delighted smile before they submitted to a _very_ ravenous kiss.    
  
_Good heavens._  
  
All this skulking had Charlotte feeling like a hormonal teen again and she was very happy to discover she was not alone in this predicament. Finally breaking away from each other, they blissfully giggled to themselves as they stepped out of their confinement. She could feel his hand leaving his position in favour to delicately slide over her spine, before coming to rest on her hip where it nestled itself firmly. And Charlotte tenderly leaned into Tom for the rest if the hike, painfully aware he took the opportunity to kiss the temple of her head and murmuring “no more interruptions, I promise.”  
  
_Damn those fireflies…_  
  
  
**4.**  
He walked her to her hotel in silence. Again, at a safe distance. He wanted to make sure she would return safe, but got out a level below hers in the elevator. Always so discreet. Charlotte sighed and shook her head. What was she getting herself into? Denying anything was going in in public, yet making out it like teenagers on a curfew in endarkended passages. And now getting out a different floors in the hotel. It made her feel like a broken pendulum. Swinging from far left to the bare right one instant, and coming to a prompt full stop the next.  
   
This felt so strange, so fabricated. It did not feel as real as she would have imagined it to. She quietly wandered over to her hotel room, the silence only being broken by the beeping of the card slot as she opened the door.  
  
Walking inside she kicked of her shoes and proceeded to shut the curtains before idly collecting his paperback and the hardcover she’d gifted him. He would want to take this back with him, she pondered.  
  
Charlotte strode back across the room upon his knocking. She would be lying if she was to say that all of this was not what she wanted. Dear lord, how had she longed to be with him in privacy. Just the two of them. But now that they were here... her heart had started beating incessantly.  
  
“I erm - I got you your books,” she murmured as she ushered him inside. However she was hesitant to bring herself to look up into his eyes again. Both afraid of what her look might give away and equally afraid to find whatever was lingering in his eyes. So her vision remained caught on her hands and the books she offered to him, and his hands reaching out to accept it from her. His fingertips gently brushed against hers.  
  
“Charlotte,” a hoarse whisper while his nose brushed against her cheek.  
Her stomach makes a somersault.  
  
“Charlotte,” he persisted.  
  
“I can’t look up,” she explained quietly, “because I’m afraid of what I might do… And it’s not what I usually do...”  
  
“May I kiss you?”  
  
She knew why he was asking her. He wants to be sure. He wants to be certain. _Good heavens_. Under closed eyes, she swallowed nervously once and then nods.  
  
He dipped his head slowly, brushing his lips against hers. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her slow and gently. Sensual. She could feel the hairs in the back of her neck rise up. He held her impossibly close and she swore she could feel herself melt away in his embrace. A subtle moan escaped her lips and the books unceremoniously fell to the floor. Her hands reach up to his neck where they hold on for dear life while his mouth claims hers. She stand on her toes, allowing him to press herself closer still and then finally meets his gaze.  
  
“Hi,” she whispered.  
  
“Hi,” a lopsided smile.  
  
“There you are again,” Charlotte smiled softly, running her fingers through his curls.  
  
“I can’t tell you how hard it was to walk the streets with you this evening, without being able to kiss you whenever I want to.”  
  
Charlotte’s fingertips trailed to the side of his head and caressed his soft beard.  
  
“…to hold you,” he emphasized while his hands languidly roamed over her body, tracing every single curve, “…to touch you.”  
  
His mouth moved from below her ear, down to her neck where his warm lips brushed over her collarbone, peppering its course with gentle kisses. It lured a shiver from her and she was at a loss for words, feeling both hot and cold, both treasured and lonely. And a very large part of her felt as if she might starve if his lips wouldn’t claim hers again soon.  
  
“This had been the strangest evening,” he contemplated.  
  
Charlotte breathed out. “Tom,” she finally mustered.  
  
Her hand cupped his cheek and she relished how he leant down in her hand with closed eyes, like a young boy savouring the love bestowed upon him. She adored how he kissed the palm of her hand while watching her under lidded eyes.    
Oh lord knows how hard she’d been trying to keep her own composure but it just seemed to be too much now. They had been circling each other, wanting each other, all night long. And he, on his part, felt he could just devour her with need alone.  
  
“Kiss me again,” a pause, “please?”  
  
And Tom gladly obliged within an instant, pushing his hands through her long hair and holding her head to him. She gasped when she sensed his mouth nipping her bottom lip.  
  
_Such a good kisser._  
  
“Well, hmmm,” he panted as he pulled back a little, “seeing you’re back safe now...I erm - I probably best be going.”  
  
Charlotte softly licked her lower lip and nodded in agreement.  
“Yeah,” she breathed, “yes, you should.”  
  
Her lips were so warm, soft and welcoming. God how he had missed those lips. He took a breath to steady himself before losing himself to her. Just once more.  
  
“Mhmm,” he moaned into her mouth, “gone already.”  
  
Charlotte chuckled coyly as they exchanged just ‘one more kiss’, one more lick and nip, one more stroke of his strong hand over her shoulder, along her spine and over her soft curves. Over her hips, down to her thighs. Honestly, it wasn't him. It was that inobedient hand of his that lifted her leg over his hipbone and his defiant body that hungrily leaned into hers.  
  
Charlotte groaned and gasped while settling the heel of her foot into his lower back. A tacit urge to press him up harder against her. Just like his body had been clear in his demand, so was hers now. Tom growled under his breath, earning a sweet helpless groan from her mouth.  
  
His lips travelled down the side of her neck, to her collarbone. She tasted so sweet, she smelled so exquisite. His teeth softly grazed the tender bone and he felt the consecutive goosebumps that rose onto her arms.  
  
Charlotte clawed at his shirt, pushing it up over his fim torso and he assisted her in tugging it over his head. Flinging it to the floor, wherever it would land. On his part, he gently slid the zipper of her dress down, never taking his lips off her neck in the process. One simple twist of her shoulders and it pooled around her feet.  
  
_Goodness gracious._  
  
He pulled himself from her for a minute to admire her. “You’re so beautiful.”  
  
“Tom,” she whispered, “Tom, please.”  
  
“It’s true,” he insisted. His deep blue eyes locking with hers for a moment before he confessed his words with a loving kiss.  
  
She adored how he lifted her off of her feet so easily and tenderly laid her down on the bed. He took his time, exploring every inch of her with his fingertips and then his lips. Kissing, caressing and teasing.  
  
Charlotte admired his restraint. She felt as if he wanted to explore all of her, memorise every curve and every edge whereas she? She could only arch her back as he did just that. Tom playfully bit down her chin, much to her delight.  
  
_Christ, it had been so long._  
  
Tom found there was something so completely liberating into seeing her find pleasure in his actions. She whimpered and groaned under his touch and he relished it.  
My god, did he relish it.  
  
As their state of undress hastily continued, his lips moved down her neck to her curvy bosom where they closed over a pink peak, sucking it gently between his lips while his other hand firmly cupped her other breast .  
  
Charlotte whimpered helplessly and slowly moved her body underneath his, eager to find some friction. His erection was now clearly presenting itself against her thighs. And she pushed her hips into him needily. It had the desired effect, Tom groaned and he teasingly grazed his teeth over her nipple before reaching down, sliding his hands over her soft ass cheeks and grabbing onto her hips eagerly. Enough now.  
  
He ran his fingertips over her inner thighs and Charlotte wavered at his feather light touch. They travelled over her soft mound, stroking and teasing sweetly as they worked towards that little bundle of nerves.  
  
Charlotte clasped her own fingers ever so tightly into his back and breathed out his name in a heartfelt wanton plea. She could feel oblivion approaching so fast and she wanted to pull him in closer, or kiss him or just do something before she ultimately fell apart underneath his touch... She felt as if all her thoughts had come done shattering to the floor.  
  
It happened so fast, but not a second too soon. With a sense of boyish pride, Tom left a trail of hungry kiss down the column of her throat as Charlotte tried grounding herself.  
He did find it took quite a lot of willpower to keep himself calm and patient in the process.  
  
“Tom,” she whispered softly, “need you.”  
  
He purred his own needs back at her, and softly slid in between her folds. His forehead rested against hers, their lips desperately searching each other, but failing to connect.  
  
_Good heavens, he would not, could not last much longer._  
  
He clasped his hands over hers, softly taking control over her as he felt himself nearing his own climax. Charlotte moaned with eyes closed, frowning and flinching in complete and utter surrender. So arousing. Tom groaned and bit his lip while picking up the face. Once. Twice. _Lord almighty._  
  
  
His own climax followed all too soon to his liking. He winced and groaned as he sank down slightly on top of her, falling apart. He could hear her whimpering and breathing his name back at him, and a soft grunt fell from his lisp as he let himself slowly come down from his own high.  
  
_What the everloving fuck..._  
  
As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t stay like this, potentially crushing her underneath his knackered form. Pushing himself up he rose his head up slightly, brushing her long hair aside and admiring her discarded state. She was the most beautiful as he had ever seen.  
  
Still hovering on top of her, he leant down gently, offering Charlotte a lazy kiss.  
They caught their breath in unison and chuckled.  
No more words needed here...  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Feedback always (and very much) appreciated. I would love to know what you think! ;-)


	12. Chapter 11 : Birthday Brunch at Lizzie's vs High Tea at Benedict & Sophie's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> excerpt - 
> 
> Charlotte would have to admit there were worse sights to wake up next to....  
> Tom looked so perfectly peaceful and relaxed as he lay there next to her. In her hotel room. In her bed. The white bed sheet haphazardly draped over his legs. His curly hair was a mess and she adored it. Even from where she was resting, she could feel his bodily warmth radiating onto her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Bonus : there is an pinterest moodboard (which I keep updated with each chapter that rolls along)  
> \--> https://www.pinterest.co.uk/theheartofpenelope  
> * You can also follow me (and this story) on tumblr (link on my dashboard)

****

**Chapter 11**

 

**1\. Sunday birthday brunch at Lizzie’s**

After ringing Lizzie’s doorbell, Charlotte glanced down at the colourful bouquet she carried in her hands. The sweet aroma of the flowers filled her lungs with happiness and energy, both very welcome because she felt dead on her feet.

When she was greeted with her nearest and dearest friends soft and happy laughter bubbled through the air. Charlotte’s smile was wider than she could have held possible and her heart was simply overjoyed. One by one the group of girlfriends fell into each other’s arms with joy, exclaiming excited shrieks and silly little compliments. Oh, she definitely had missed this, all of it. 

As expected, the girls’ respective men were fussing over a BBQ in the garden while two  teeny little rascals were attempting to push a ball around in between the two of them. Charlotte sweetly kissed one of the birthday-girls who was patiently cradling her newborn to sleep. Charlotte gladly took a moment to inhale the sweet baby-scent while kissing its head as well, before whispering to her friend how much the little bub resembled its father.  

This was nice, this was good. This is where she’d wanted to be… At the annual birthday brunch that celebrated all ‘ _three summerbabes’_ that were amongst the group of tight-knit friends. It was a lazy event, no pressure. It was all ‘put your feet up’, ‘stay as long as you want’, etc. And just like every year they were all there, without fault. There was no question Charlotte would attend as well, conferences or not. She’d gladly taken a night flight out of Edinburgh for it, because she would not (could not!) miss this for the world. 

 

Several hugs and kisses later, Lizzie introduced Charlotte to a _new_ face; a man named Michael. Not someone’s new boyfriend, no, no, not this one. He appeared to be a friend of Lizzie’s husband David, a _‘newly single’_ and Lizzie couldn’t resist to point that little fact out and not-so-subtly add; _‘like you.'_

Charlotte groaned inwardly as she meekly greeted the man who had turned a deeper shade of pink, just like her.  

“Is it just me,” she joked, “or do you feel like we’ve walked into a trap here?”

To her delight Michael smiled and admitted to the sentiment, leaving Lizzie to gasp in fake horror and muttering Charlotte could get her own Mimosa. 

Charlotte chuckled, but quickly left the man behind and for good reason; another man, most definitely nòt called Michael, was currently haunting her mind, body and soul. 

  
**_> >>  
_ ** _Charlotte would have to admit there were worse sights to wake up next to...._

_Tom looked so perfectly peaceful and relaxed as he lay there next to her. In her hotel room. In her bed. The white bed sheet haphazardly draped over his legs. His curly hair was a mess and she adored it. Even from where she was resting, she could feel his bodily warmth radiating onto her. He smelled so nice. And while she wanted nothing more than to nuzzle against his chest and crawl into his embrace, trailing kisses from his collarbone to that spot behind his ear that made him gasp...  she opted not to. After all, it was quite early still and he was so tired…._

_She smiled to herself softly and deftly unplugged the hotel phone so her morning wake up call wouldn’t wake him. Another convention-day had presented itself and Charlotte reluctantly kicked herself into gear; cautiously sneaking out of the bed and into the bathroom. And while she was mindful not to wake him as she showered and slipped into her clothes, she was utterly clueless on how she ought to proceed after that. Does she leave without a word? Surely not. Should she leave a note? Should she wake him? In her mind she knew very well what she would wànt to do…_ _In an ideal scenario she’d crawl back under the sheets with him, so they could wake whenever it pleased them and come to terms with the aftermath at their own steady pace. But this was not that day. She'd never felt so happy, so sated and at the same time so insecure in her life._

_At the sound of her cell phone ringing Charlotte sped out the bathroom to silence the damned thing, bumping her little toe against the bed in the process. Charlotte suppressed a series of heavy curses while stubbornly limping on and grabbing wildly at her phone nonetheless._

_The tall silhouette in her bed came to life with a jolt._  
_"mmmm,"  he groaned, "mmorning."_  
**_> >>_ **

  
“Ambush?! What ambush?” Lizzie protested after Charlotte confronted her in the kitchen, “Michael is a friend of David’s. I can't help it if he turns out to be single.”

“Conveniently or not darling, you seem to forget I know your and David’s circle well enough to know that this is absolute bullshit.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes at her friend, “Oh shush! Give him a chance. He's sweet and kind and once you get to know him I'm certain you’ll be forever grateful I introduced the two of you….” 

She shook her head at her friend: Charlotte hàd agreed that Lizzie could set her up on occasion, hadn’t she? Well then…  _‘Brunch is fun with friends. And he is a friend and so is she. Both single. Huh. Imagine that…’_  

Charlotte cursed Lizzie internally as she stomped off; her mind now racing at full speed. However she swiftly calmed down once she was outside again. Especially when laying eyes upon Cait and her first born, promenading around, seemingly on cloud number nine. Cait offered her to hold her little newborn and Charlotte more than happily obliged. Admiring the teeny tiny state of perfection, her mind devilishly reminded her that nothing could scare men off faster that women cooing over a perfect little baby… Perfect! And Charlotte cuddled the little one a tad bit extra because of it … 

 

 ****_> >>  
_ _Tom bounced up straight when he noticed Charlotte’s predicament. The sheet tactically held in position, he scooted to her side of the bed where he wordlessly held out his hands for her to place her foot into it._  
_He studies her toes diligently and massaged the pain away._

 _So perfect, so lovely, so devilishly handsome even upon waking, although a bit confused as to why she was already dressed and seemingly set to go.  
_ **_> >>_ **

 

Yes, men definitely tend to run at the sight of their girls - prospective or not - fall in love with babies. But not this one. This one did not run off when a baby was diplomatically involved.

“Hey there little bug,” he greeted the tiny baby, while he offered Charlotte a glass. 

Michael made a generous attempt at small talk. He was nice, attentive and very clearly dragged in the same predicament as she was. He was compassionate, interested, maybe slightly overdressed but Charlotte was nowhere in the mood for this. This was supposed to be brunch. Casual birthday brunch at Lizzie’s - not some kind of a speed date… 

“Yet another summerbug,” he conversed on, “there seems to be a lot of those here.”

He nodded towards her, a question lingering in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Charlotte smiled back good heartedly, “not me though.”

“No?” he sipped from his gin-tonic, “what kind of ‘bug’ are you then?”

Despite not wanting to, she chuckled and bit her lip in utter defiance. She hated it when Lizzie did something right when she so badly wanted it to be wrong. 

 

 **> >>  
** _Charlotte reassured Tom of her good intentions. She was definitely not leaving him without a word. She offered him the cup of coffee she’d made them and felt as if she’d grown wings when he looked at her like that._

_He nodded at her appreciatively. And she easily gave into the urge to smoothly slip her hand over the nape of his neck and into his tousled hair while answering his doting morning kiss._

_"So last night," he looked up at her with one raised eyebrow. Mischief written all over his face. She chuckled as she met his expression, "m-hm..."  
_ **> >>**

 

Charlotte, now babyless, jiggled her leg while partaking in the conversations as the group sat around the table in the garden. 

“She’s nervous,” David nudged his wife. 

Lizzie beamed, “told you this would work.”

_'Charlie why don’t you sit over here, next to Michael’. ‘Charlotte did you hear Michael just got back from Dublin?’ ‘Michael, did you know Charlie just flew in from Edinburgh?’ ‘Oh you two, why didn’t we put you together sooner.’ ‘Oh, this makes sense.’_

Oh, there were not enough Mimosa’s in the world to end this trail of suffering.  

  
Charlotte absentmindedly pushed the food around in her plate, before ultimately dropping her cutlery on it. She tried her best to follow the conversation, she really did. But when some friends left the table to put their little kids in their respective cots, her mind has started wandering. 

She vaguely detected David’s intonation went up at the end of a sentence. Apparently a question that required an answer from her. She looked up with a kind “hmm?”

“Edinburgh?” he kindheartedly inquired again. 

“Oh! Yes, erm quite nice, thank you,” she blushed and chuckled. “Did you know, in August they have this festival?"

"Really?"

"Mhm," Charlotte nodded. She’d though this one through well enough now. "Tom showed me around."

"Tom?” Lizzie suddenly piped up while clearing the plates.  
  
_Ah finally, she’d caught her attention._

 

"Yes, Lizzie, Tom,” Charlotte smiled as she slanted her head towards her friend and handing over her own plate. 

"I've heard thàt name before!”

 

Charlotte rose to her feet and collected a bunch of dishes, ready to follow her friend and continue this conversation in the privacy of Lizzie’s kitchen but her friend seemed to have grown roots on her own lawn. 

"My god, I knew it!” she exclaimed, a small tower of dirty plates in her hands, “these international conventions are paying off...” 

And while Lizzie's mind was brewing up stories, Charlotte could only laugh and shake her head. 

_Move woman_

"Did you have fun?”

"Yes,” Charlotte nodded, “I did actually.”

"You didn't... " Lizzie’s eyes doubled in size.

"Oh but I did,” 

 

Michael slightly shifted in his seat.

_Oh. Bad form Charlotte, not in front of the prospective one..._

David rolled his eyes, "excuse us, would you?"

"Yeah I'm, - " Michael stammered and pointed to David as he quickly followed in his steps. 

 

"Did he know where everything was??”

"Liz, my god!” Charlotte rolled her eyes as she put the dishes down on the table again, “what are you asking me?”

"Well, you know these days…”

"Trust me,” Charlotte sighed, “he did nòt need GPS-assistance.”

"Oh my god!” Lizzie chirped and tapped her feet on the grass in enthusiasm, “why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Because you simply had no ears for me, love,” Charlotte replied softly.

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” Lizzie sighed, “but ugh!! Now what? Tell me. Tell me all of it. Every single dirty detail. Please. I’ll be all ears now, promise… ”

 

 

**2\. Sunday high tea at Benedict & Sophie’s**

Tom chuckled to himself when he saw little Christopher dashing around in the garden as he chased the colourful butterflies that fled from the nearby rose bushes. Christopher looked up at the fluttering little animals with big wondrous eyes. Tom found himself envieing that capacity of looking at the world through childlike eyes, always admiring, always exploring and with that unshakable belief that everything and every one was ‘good’ while in reality that really was not the case. Not often at least.

“Such a lovely family,” he shook his head with a smile before looking back at his friends, “I envy you.”

Benedict snorted while following Tom’s gaze. Sophie on her part only sighed as the baby monitor crackled. Baby Hal was definitely awake now. She thanked Tom once more for his attentive first godfather’s gift before scampering up towards her - for now still - littlest bundle of joy.

“So how was Fringe?” Benedict questioned as he reached for his drink.

“Satisfying,” Tom swirled the spoon in his cup of coffee.

Tom was happy but short in his answers today, Benedict had noticed.

“Now come on, out with it.”

“Out with what?”

Benedict flashed him a mirthless smile, he knew his friend better than this. Benedict called out to his son as he sauntered about with his butterfly net, urging him to be a bit more subdued in his actions for fear of him hurting himself. He was met with a witty reply only a 4-year-old could come up with.

They had established the performance had gone very well, the feedback had been tremendous. Tom was meeting up with a renowned director soon for a new play. He’d met up with the friends and relatives. And apparently he had a not-date-like date as well with pleasurable outcome... 

“You know, for a man who just got _freaky at Fringe_ ,” Benedict chortled at his own joke, “I would expect to see you a tad bit more... upbeat?”

Tom huffed to himself before sipping from his coffee again, which triggered a dramatic frown from Benedict.

“I mean, let’s recap here shall we?”

“You kissed the girl,” Benedict stated, “and I can assume you wanted to kiss this girl, right?” 

“Yes,” a firm nod from Tom.

“You slept together,” Benedict squeezed his eyes into two fine lines.

“Affirmative sir,” again a firm nod. 

“Then what is with the mood dear friend? I would think…” 

Tom sighed gravely, where did he begin… 

  
**> >>  
** _Charlotte nodded when he repeated her “11 PM? As in tonight? Your flight is tonight?”_

_"It's a Fringe thing apparently. Night flight or no flight..."_

_Tom was astounded; their schedule couldn't have been more diverse. When the conference concluded, he was already working interviews and set for performing subsequently. This was no good, no good at all…_

_He sighed and put his tired brain to work. He suggested a bar right outside the city centre. A cosy remote little place where they could meet up again in privacy after his performance and before her departure. A place where she would be able to catch a taxi easily, almost instantly even. And if his mind didn’t deceive him, they would have a little bit more over an hour. Not much, but so very craved._

_To his delight, she instantly and cheerfully agreed and amorously returned the kiss he rewarded her with.  
_ **> >>**

  
“Hang on,’’ Benedicted waved his hands under closed eyes, “supposed to?”

“Well, I got caught in …” 

“No,” Benedict buried his head in his hand and muttered, “Tom, honestly, no.” 

“Well, what was I supposed to do?” 

“Slip out the back, avoid the crowd, explain you have to get somewhere in time...”

“I tried,” Tom protested quietly.

“Well,’ his friend groaned, “not enough it would seem.”

 

Tom chastised himself and he couldn't blame Benedict when he straightforward spat out it was forever the story of Tom’s life. Forever putting his career, or his reputation, first. Making an effort to be likeable and stay likeable for hoards of fans. To the point his personal life suffered because of it. As if everything else would pause for him as well. Open up your eyes my dear friend! Life goes ever on. If you miss the train, don't expect someone to send the limo back to pick you up. On or off, but decide now. 

Tom squirmed in his seat uneasily. It hadn't occurred to him like thàt until now really. But did Benedict really had to spell it out so harshly though? Tom had argued with him initially; saying it had nothing to do with fans or reputation or any of that. He just felt awful because he had left things up in the air between them. And as a matter of fact he was really intent on seeing or speaking with her again. Truly, honestly. 

 

Benedict sighed, clearly not buying any of it.

“So,” he exhaled loudly, “was this a one-night affair?”

“I – I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know,” he dropped his hand on the table with a dramatic chuckle, “how can you not know?” 

“It’s complicated,” Tom disputed. 

“Try me,” Benedict dared his friend, “because it’s fairly easy… do you see yourself without her or not?" he paused, "could you continue without pursuing this and look back without regret? In short - what does Sadie mean to you?"

Tom scrunched his nose and shook his head vehemently, "Sadie? Sadie’s not..." 

"Well then, there is your answer," Benedict interjected his reasonings. “See? Easy!” 

 

It was no secret Benedict didn't particularly care much for Sadie. In his mind the young actress hung around Tom in all sympathy, but pushed towards a romantic connection in public for more press attention. He could be mistaken though, he did admit this to his friend. But he had also been quick to add he wasn't mistaken about these things very often. 

"I meant to say,” Tom interposed on his friend, “that this is not about Sadie, it's Charlotte..."

He noticed Benedict look up at him dumbfounded, his eyebrows raised in complete and utter surprise, “Charlotte?” 

It took him a moment before several profanities came falling from his lips.

"Yeah, tried that too," Tom snorted under a mirthless smile before downing the last of his coffee, "didn't work."

 

 

**3\. Sunday birthday brunch at Lizzie’s continued**

“So??” Lizzie repeated anxiously, “now what?” 

“I don't know,” Charlotte shrugged with a chuckle. 

“What do you mean, you don't know,” Lizzie rolled her eyes, “call him, text him, go on. If you have chemistry, you only need one other thing. Timing.”

“Ah, but timing's a bitch. Besides, he hasn't really reached out to me, so I think it's pretty clear that this was all there is…” Charlotte didn’t know who she was soothing more; Lizzie or her own broken heart. 

“I just wanted to make clear that setting me up today might not have been the best idea, sweetheart…”Charlotte sighed, “it was a bit much and a bit too soon.”

"But Charlie, you need to get back out there again,” Lizzie contested kindly, “I’m afraid you'll turn from wallflower to wallpaper if you keep standing on the side…”

"Dramaqueen!”

"Truth”

"I know, I know, but, you know… got laid,” Charlotte winked, “I'm getting there alright? Baby steps,” she gestured as she put her thumb and index finger close together. 

 

 **> >>  
** _She'd arrived at the bar early and fiddled with the complementaries her tea had offered her. She felt as giddy like a schoolgirl waiting of her crush. Only said crush did not arrive upon the agreed hour. 15 minutes went by, then half an hour. This was not good. Charlotte checked her phone for the umpteenth time. The battery was still at 78%_

_She mentally thanked a colleague of hers who offered her a powerbank in the afternoon when Charlotte had noticed her phone battery running low. One night out of the ordinary and her usual routine had gone right out the window. She never put her phone into flight mode that night, nor did she load up the battery and it showed. She was however desperate not to fall off the radar that day. Because she did not, could not, miss a call from him, or a text, or anything basically._

_She professed her eternal gratitude to said lady. Her battery level went up, however incoming messages remained at steady zero. Charlotte didn’t really take too much note of it. He had his own calendar to work through today. But now, well passed their established hour her frustration level came to higher lever…._

_Maybe he was delayed, she pondered. Maybe this, maybe that. Her mind was fully aware of the pretty realistic fact that he would not show up, but her heart wasn’t ready to believe that yet. Until 40 minutes had gone by. Charlotte rose to her feet and paid for her bill. As Tom had predicted, she got a taxi very easily. She looked left and right once more while the drive loaded her baggage. Nothing._

_Getting into the vehicle she softly huffed to herself, "silly girl, what did you expect?"_

_It wasn't so much his failure to show up that hurt her, it was more his incessant ability to simply not communicate. Promising someone to show up and failing to do so is just so not done. Charlotte would rather have the stone cold truth. Right there. In her face. Don't sweet talk, name the things for what they are. But apparently actors just loved to act… Charlotte rolled her eyes, ashamed for her own gullibility and left for the airport.  
_ **> >>**

 

“Well, maybe something is wrong with your phone?” Lizzie muttered as she fished out Charlotte’s device out of her purse. 

“You've watched too many romcom's sweetheart,” Charlotte muttered whilst washing the dishes in Lizzie’s kitchen.

“Seriously though!” Lizzie insisted, “I texted you this morning.”

“You did not Liz, you think you did but I think we have well established your mind is everywhere except in the present. One year older, one year….”

“You're on flight mode, you dummy!” Lizzie squealed out. 

“I’m wha?” Charlotte muttered while quickly drying her hands, “I am not, gimme….”

“I knèw it!” Lizzie tittered on triumphant while Charlotte’s cell phone went into a small beeping frenzy, “there he is,” she added in a sing-song voice. 

While Lizzie nagged on, Charlotte’s heart leapt into her throat. Of course! She hadn’t lost all hope on him. Or them. Not just yet. Well, maybe just a little bit. As she quickly scanned for Tom’s messages, her heart swelled and her faith in him restored itself swiftly.  

 

 > _Thinking of you_

_ > Not much longer... _

_ > Charlotte, wait for me please! _

_ > Nearly there…. _

_ > Charlotte, where are you? _

> _I can't find you..._

 

He’d left her a voicemail. Of course he would! Her heart thudded in her chest and she excused herself, anxious to hear his voice again. 

She heard him sigh and hesitate. 

> _"You're gone. (a pause). Charlotte, I..._
> 
> _Maybe I was too late, maybe I didn't see you or maybe you weren't here to begin with (bitter laugh)_ s _orry about that... I just…._  
>  _I only wanted to say ..._  
>  _(a pause)_  
>  _I have no regrets. None  
>  (yet another pause) _ _  
> I … I just feel so awful that I didn't see you again tonight. I wish ... (a heavy sigh). God I wish I could have said goodbye properly. You don't know how I've longed to see you again... "_

Charlotte's hands clasped over her mouth. One night, picture perfect. And then… the hunt was over. The loot had been collected. On to the next apparently. The puzzle pieces finally slid into place. Her heart sank into her shoes, and she fought back a rush of emotion that fell on to her. _Goodbye? Honestly?_

“And?” Lizzie tilted her head curiously, “what did he say? When will you see him again?” 

“I erm,” Charlotte shrugged and swallowed down her agitation, “I won’t.”

Lizzie quizically stared at her friend.

“Well,” Charlotte sighed dramatically, anxious to switch the subject, “that’s that then. What about dessert?”

 

**4\. Sunday high tea at Benedict & Sophie’s continued**

Benedict remained mute and slightly dumbfounded after Tom had finished filling him in on the need-to-know details of Edinburgh. Only when Sophie resurfaced with little Hal on her arm, he gestured wildly and managed to mutter to his wife, “Charlotte!! It’s Charlotte.”

“Well of course it is,” Sophie beamed knowingly, “who else?” 

“But, but,” he heaved his shoulders up helplessly, “how do you know this?”

“I just do,” 

And as Sophie confessed that she suspected there was somethere ‘there’ on Benedict’s birthday party, a reluctant Tom admitted that they had in fact kissed at ComiCon less than 2 weeks prior. Benedict felt like a fish out of the water at this confession, claiming he was there and how could he not know this. Sophie however deftly shut him up by offering him baby Hal and seating herself next to the two men at the table. 

“So,” Sophie questioned him, “is there a problem I fail to see?”

“I don’t know. I texted her...I tried calling her but her phone was switched off. So I left a voice message and … nothing,” Tom shrugged.

Benedict offered him a slow clap, which Hal quickly tried to mimic. 

“Yeah, clearly, you’ve done _all_ you can…”

“Tom,” Sophie clasped her hand over his, “ignore Bigfoot there. What is it _you_ want? 

“It’s stupid, it’s silly, it’s a dead-end. We live miles apart,”

Benedict coughed, “Taylor.”

Hal giggled as he tried hacking and gagging to his daddy’s resemblance. Benedict doted on his youngest boy and encouraged his antics while Tom laughingly urged his friend to shut up.

 

“Alright, alright, then forget about her. She hasn’t responded to your texts or your one and only - I feel I must emphasize - phone call. Too bad, the joke’s on her, turn around and move on.” 

Tom’s eyes drooped down as he came to a full understanding and nodded accordingly. 

"I feel I need I repeat my question : do you see yourself without her or not?" Benedict paused, "could you continue without pursuing this and look back without regret?”

“Well, I càn live without her. There is no question about that,” Tom shrugged. “You know the first time we met, I thought she was intelligent and beautiful, and absolutely perfect. And now I’ve come to realize that she isn’t. At all. She is not perfect; she’s got her scars and her emotional baggage.”

“And?” Sophie urged with a smile, “my morning chocolate for the fact that this made matters even worse.”

Tom sighed and looked over at a loudly giggling Christopher in the garden. 

“I think that’s your answer right there…” Sophie quietly added. 

"You know, Sophie and I didn't happen overnight,” Benedict followed her reasonings to which she snorted. 

“And we do not live on cloud number nine. A relationship is work,” she confessed on her turn, 

“But I love her so much, that it hardy feels like work..."

“Ah,” Sophie winked in good humour “you see, and it works both ways…”

“When you hesitate, Tom, you take the plunge. Or you’ll regret it forever,” Benedict hastened to say. “Which means you’ll be on my case about it. Also forever.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Feedback always (and very much) appreciated. I would love to know what you think! ;-)
> 
> Feed the creator, it keeps me going ;-)


	13. Chapter 12 : Wednessday - Chance encounter in London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> excerpt - 
> 
> “I demand an appeal,” he muttered as he turned a corner. 
> 
> “You what?!”
> 
> “Well, isn’t that what they do in your job?”
> 
> Charlotte snapped her head back. Oh really?  
> Trapped in a car. In traffic. No way for an escape. And he wants to plead his case. Fucking perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Bonus : there is an pinterest moodboard (which I keep updated with each chapter that rolls along)  
> \--> https://www.pinterest.co.uk/theheartofpenelope  
> * You can also follow me (and this story) on tumblr (link on my dashboard)

****

**Chapter 12**

**Wednessday - A chance encounter in London**  

 

**1\. See**

Charlotte politely followed the HR consultant as he escorted her into the sleek elevator. He was a middle-aged man who oozed self-confidence, he knew very well what he wanted and what he was looking for. He’d been quite rigid and resolute all throughout the meeting. 

She had been a little surprised an HR manager was attending said lengthy meeting, but then again this wàs the Royal London Hospital and this might be a very strict protocol they had to live up to. Breaking it was no doubt sacrilegious in these parts of the country.  

The executive directors of the Royal London Hospital had very clearly outlined their ‘vision’ for the hospital to Charlotte, requesting her take on things and requesting a well-documented legal counsel. Truth-be-told Charlotte had expected she was called in for this kind of professional advice. However she was not expecting that her response would be met the way it was… 

As she politely but determinedly rejected some of their desiderata, some glances were exchanged on the other side of the table, a few nods and gestures went back and forth which Charlotte found utterly distracting. Where was their protocol now, she mused. 

But all became clear when the meeting somehow, very openly, turned into a job-offer towards her. A very generous offer was instantly extended to her; and a temporary assignment to work out a new policy on end-of-life decisions in the Royal London Hospital. The fucking Royal Hospital, her mind has yelled out, the state-of-the-art hospital, globally recognized as a leader in pre-hospital and trauma care. Home to [ London's Air Ambulance ](https://londonsairambulance.co.uk/) and one of the capital's leading trauma and emergency care centres and hyper-acute stroke centres. And they wanted _her…_

Charlotte would be allowed to compile a multidisciplinary corps and an assistant would be appointed to her. The extent of the offer dizzied her, yet thrilled her at the same time. It was a dream come true. Well, more than that really… 

 

Things were moving fast for her now. At least that’s how it felt for her. She started with only a handful seminars, but was now well-booked for the rest of the summer, with the occasional interview here and there. And now there was this offer on the table she could not quite wrap her mind around yet. 

As she stepped into the elevator the HR manager kindly exchanged some more small talk with her. He seemed like an amiable man. With a smile he tapped the elevator buttons and started their descent down to the lobby. 

No, never in her wildest dreams had Charlotte expected her road to lead her where it had so far. And this at only 36 years of age. This was wild. This went beyond her imagination. And Charlotte half expected to be woken up by the shrill tone of her alarm clock. She discreetly pinched her nails into her arm - just in case - but this was no dream apparently. The shrill alarm clock didn't sound, but the elevator did chyme and a monotone female voice announced the occupants they had reached the fourth floor, then the second floor and so on. 

People trickled in and out the elevator and before she was good and well aware Charlotte had reached the ground floor. She smiled in agreement with the HR consultant as he thanked her for her time, which she countered with a thank you for having me. _Ping-pong, as you go..._

"And we'll be looking forward to hearing your decision," the HR consultant concluded their conversation, "and maybe I shouldn't say this, but we àre passionately hoping you'll be willing to work with us."

In her head Charlotte positively screamed _fucking Royal London!_ , but in reality she smiled her best diplomatic smile. And while she shook his hand - firmly -, she politely answered she was absolutely honoured and would think the offer through.

  
Upon exiting the elevator on a pure adrenaline high, Charlotte inattentively bumped against a hurried nearby stranger who jogged out of an opposing elevator. Shaking the momentary lapse of concentration out of her head, she turned to the other party with a slightly surprised frown which swiftly morphed into a recognition, and then an awkward yet lukewarm smile. 

"Charlotte?" 

"Tom?"

 

**2\. See _closer_  **

3 days after Fringe.   
3 nights after that night.  
3 days and 3 nights without a single word.  
In either direction. 

Charlotte’s heart thudded loudly and nervously in her chest. She was however oblivious whether this nervous spell was a good or a bad thing. Should she crawl under a rock and make herself scarce after exchanging the necessary small talk or should she act unaffected, like he was? Or should she take a breath, straighten her shoulders and ask for an answer in the hopes it could heal that awful gnawing feeling the aftermath of Edinburgh had left her with... 

As she came round to a mute double (or was it triple?) take, she noted Tom seemed just as much out of his comfort zone as she was. And in a weird way it thrilled her. _Karma. Suits him well._ She could see him running his tongue over his lips before gently biting them shut. His hands fidgeted with the paperwork he held in his hand while repeatedly re-adjusting his glasses. 

Charlotte’s heartbeat however dropped some when she detected the variety of papers Tom had now safely tucked under his arm. So much paperwork after a doctor’s appointment, that did not look good. At all. He didn’t look hurt though. Was he sick? He seemed nervous, sweaty. He was silent, not at all like the Tom she’d come to know….

Her gaze got caught on the documents, but at this point she couldn’t care less about that. 

“Are - Are you alright?” Charlotte immediately questioned; she was worried. No point in denying this. 

Her wall of defence had slipped and Tom could hear the concern in her voice inkling through. A small little frown came across her features. Only instantly, but he noticed nonetheless. And he thankfully concluded that perhaps she wasn’t yet hating him with the fire of a thousand suns…

"Yeah, no, I erm,” he stuttered, “I just had the obligatory medical check-up for a next project. But you?"

He was astounded though, for a woman who was most definitely not an actress she slid back into her defensive pose oh-so easily. A tall blank wall arose, that gave way to nothing or nobody. He swore he had caught a glimmer of relief into her eyes before though, but all sympathy had fled from her now.  

“Good-good,” she replied with formal nod, “just - work.” 

Tom took notice of how curt she suddenly acted. How could he not. But to Charlotte it was simply her only means as she desperately did not want to feel a single thing. Not those stupid-ass fireflies, not the inexplicable angry hurt, not the stomach drop. None of it. She wanted nothing more than to be cool and step over all of this matter-of-factly. Her gut swirled with bottled up questions and insecurities, but she would have none of that. Water under the bridge.

_Get over it Daniëls. He sure has._

 

**3\. Believe**

Charlotte slid into the leather seats of his fancy car. A fresh cool bottle of water clasped in her hands. He’d paid for it despite her vehement veto. He wouldn’t listen though. And now she was here, in his car, because he offered to drive her to the St. Pancras Station. She’d refused, replying she was taking the underground so he really shouldn’t bother. It was noon. Traffic would be a mess, etc. However she ended up giving in to this request - albeit reluctantly - because he was right on one thing; they needed to talk. Privately if possible and the hospital lobby was just no place to do just that. 

But in spite of that, they did not exchange one word once inside the car. Tom pulled out of the underground parking with a silent ease. And emerging in the London streets and into the full sunlight, he reached out for his trusted sunglasses. Meanwhile the familiar scent of leather and some citrussy car perfume tempted Charlotte’s mind into a trip down memory lane, back to another night several weeks back in time. A night with equally nervous heart flutters, but for entirely different reasons. 

 

He queued down the main road, while desperately trying to sort his thoughts before settling on a

“You’ve never answered me…” 

Charlotte remained at a loss for words for a couple of seconds before huffing a vexed “honestly?!” and shaking her head in disbelief. 

He could hear her as she exhaled loudly, seemingly trying to get her mind pulled back together again,

“With quite a delay I got your texts and,” a pause, “your voicemail.”

His eyes urged her on.

"You said - if memory serves me well, and it usually does - that you wished you'd said ‘ _goodbye’_.” Charlotte paused, “forgive me but I thought that was how this worked for you."

"How what worked?"

"You didn't show up!!" She didn’t mean for her voice to go up in pitch and she furiously furrowed her brows to compensate for it, "I mean, it's all right, I was ….. naive I guess? Somewhere I _knew_ I wouldn't see you again that night, but yet hoped for it. Against better judgement." 

"Wha, wh- why would you expect I wouldn't show up?"

Charlotte lifted her chin and rested her head against the headrest while releasing a cold and hollow laugh, which he didn’t particularly cared for, "To-om!"

  


But he remained silent, a bit dumbfounded and clueless for what to say next. A car behind them honked, frustrated Tom had failed to acknowledge the light turning green and was still at a halt. 

"You don't want to let anybody down, I understand," Charlotte muttered, "no need to..."

"Only I did," he interrupted, "I let you down, I let myself down. I’m just…”

“Just stop it,” Charlotte interjected as she shook her head in seeming defeat and looked at him wearily. 

“You know, I hate it how you are making all of this about you?”

“I’m sorry,” he blinked twice, “come again?”

"Like it’s all your hurt feelings in the scale here. It drives me mad….” she huffed, “You know, I think or at least I _hope_ we've established in the past that I'm not really the type of girl that just goes crawling into bed with someone on a whim?” 

Charlotte gestured aggravatedly, “so excuse me if I'm a bit rough around the edges here, but I clearly heard you say _‘goodbye’_ to me. So, what else would there be left for me to say? It didn't really feel like a message that allowed any type of answer…"

“So just,” she sighed, “let’s just call this for what this is or was. And move on?”

  
  
A pang went straight through his heart. He saw her turning away and looking through the window from the passenger seat at the buildings that passed her by. Good. Because he desperately needed a minute to himself to let her words sink in. He couldn’t quite grasp the fact that she would see him as this promiscuous playboy who just went sleeping around with whomever struck his fancy...  

“I demand an appeal,” he muttered as he turned a corner.  

“You what?!”

“Well, isn’t that what they do in your job?”

Charlotte snapped her head back. _Oh_ _really?_

_Trapped in a car. In traffic. No way for an escape. And he wants to plead his case. Fucking perfect._

  


“You know,” he argued more determined now, “you keep saying, _‘let’s call it what it is’_. And then you do just that. And proceed to you turn your back on me. And it’s settled?” he questioned.

“But what about _me_ ? Do I at least get the chance to call it what it was _for me_?” he pressed on, “I do feel like you owe it to me to let me explain..."

"Owe it to you?" she frowned with a huff, hovering clearly unsettled.  

"Yes, Charlotte,” he replied. Curt. To the point. 

“And if you truly feel the way you say you do - I promise, I will not push this matter further. However I will not let you silence me before I have spoken my part.”

"I wanted to see you that night. But the crowd, .... and then some fans walked up and then there was this critic," he sighed in utter frustration and banged the steering wheel in sheer annoyance, "I am an idiot! I know I am. And I should have been more firm. I went about it all wrong. And for that I will be forever angry with myself." 

“But,” he sighed, “I did want to see you and ... verify that the other night was not just a dream. I _longed_ to see you. To hear you. To hold you and to kiss you goodnight. Not goodbye.” he shook his head in disbelief. 

“And if I said that wrong on your voicemail then I apologize for it. All of it. I was tired. Impatient.” 

 _Heartbroken_  

He held her gaze, “I am _not_ thàt type of man you seem to want to take me for, I am _not_ the type to sleep around. You must believe me on this one. I might not have the best track-record with you so far; I admit,” he added a bitter laugh, “but this is true. I promise you that."

  


She kept silent. This seemed like a good sign… 

"But Charlotte, I called you and went straight to voicemail. To me, that was quite a clear message as well... No response is still a response, Charlotte,” he concluded. 

"Have you spoken your peace, Tom?"

He replied to her with a silent surprised nod. 

“Apparently,” she mumbled, “when you attach a cell-phone to a power bank it shuts off everything so it loads faster…”

“Of course,” he wrinkled his nose as he shrug his shoulders as if to convey her he did not see the point of this lesson, “that’s the way they work.”

Charlotte raised an eyebrow ironically, “well congrats to you, but I didn’t know that.”

“What on earth?” 

“In Edinburgh, a colleague of mine lent one to me… my battery was running low and … I didn’t want to miss any….” She furrowed her brows and looked down at the drink in between her hands.   
“I didn’t have a watch. My cell is … my clock, my calendar. It erm - it automatically put me in flight mode. I didn’t realize. And I’m sorry about that.”

He looked back at her with sympathy and nodded, “ok.”

 

She nodded with a kindhearted smile, “so, appeal granted. It’s good we talked. But, you don’t want this."

"Ouch," he chuckled and clutched his heart. "Well that stung. For a minute there I thought he came to an understanding here?"

"Don't miss my point," Charlotte slanted her head and looked at him with sympathy.

"And don't you miss mine,” he interrupted her, “because even though you believe you speak the truth, you are wrong."

"Am I?" 

"So very wrong! Because, as it turns out, I do wànt this,” he gestured between them, “or at least a fair chance at this.”

But Charlotte only rolled her eyes and turned her gaze outwards again. 

“My god! I swear there are pitbulls that are less tenacious than you!”

Charlotte grunted and looked down at the bottle in between her hands, before a stupid grin fell from her lips. 

“I swear,” he shook his head, “so help me god.”  
“And now she’s laughing… You’re putting me through hell here darling...”

 

“I’ve missed not talking to you,” he finally dared to confess, “And I _so_ desperately wanted to reach out to you, only I … don’t know where you live, I didn’t know where you’d be? So,” he lingered, “I sent flowers to your firm.” 

“Well congratulations to Luke,” Charlotte rolled her eyes.

“I tend to pick and send my own flowers, darling. I’m very precise about those things.”

She kept silent. _Good_. 

Tom stared at the steering wheel before him, “ _Gladiolus_ , for _strength of character, honor and conviction._ And they needed to be white; the color of perfection, safety, purity and faith. Writing the accompanying card was an outright hell though, because the odds were your colleagues might get it before you did.”

“That was you?” Charlotte reminisced a WhatsApp from her office depicting a gorgeous bouquet and demanding what she had said or done to deserve the honour of such a wonderful gift. They couldn’t make out the card though. It only mentioned one word, but the meaning of it was lost on everyone.

Until now.

“Maktub,” Charlotte whispered, to which he nodded. 

_‘Maktub.’ ‘It is written’._

_A deep belief about destiny Paulo Coelho writes about in ‘the Alchemist’ where he captured it in just one word. Maktub. Everything is destined and written. How when and where has already been planned and we shall not get anxious about it. Just little patience and it will just come with time provided and the efforts needed._

 

She glanced up in his eyes that convey nothing but a clear bluegreen sincerity. She wanted to ask him to say that again, for good understanding. But he gladly repeated it on his own accord. 

And there went her heart. In one thousand pieces, scattered all over the ground.

 

**4\. Achieve**

He officially declared traffic was an absolute mess. It was barely noon and within 20 minutes he had barely made any significant progress towards Saint Pancras Station. Worriedly he inquired with Charlotte when her train was departing and when she quietly confessed _“16:03”_ he dropped his chin to his chest and bit his lip trying to suppress a laugh. 

“Can I propose lunch now?” he chuckled, to which she pleasantly nodded. That would be alright.

They agreed they would start over at lunch, wipe the slate clean. Talk. And reset.

 

Tom made a swift U-turn, sneaking into smaller streets. Homeward. He wanted to let out Bobby first, drop of his paperwork, leave his car. Charlotte wordlessly followed his path. 

The chocolate brown Cocker Spaniël happily greeted his master as Tom set foot into his house. Charlotte followed quietly, awkwardly. Bobby sniffed her legs both suspiciously and curiously. When she crouched down and offered him the palms of her hands, he studied and snuffed them gratefully, ultimately giving them a little lick before ignoring her completely and favouring Tom over her. 

Tom chuckled, “well, you’re accepted it seems.”

He clicked his tongue, guiding Bobby out into his backyard while Charlotte nervously waited around in the living room. She wanted to go explore his bookshelf across the room. As she progressed down the room she admired the stupendously comfy-looking lounge chair and fought the urge to try it out herself. As she ran her fingertips over the fragments of paper that lay scattered around a reading table, her eyes fell upon an article with her name on it, post-its with scribblings on it. An email address, a phone number, some doodling, scratched out words. City names. As she picked up the interview curiously, a second one featuring her appeared underneath. Charlotte chuckled, had he really been trying to track her down?

A soft chuckle brought her back to reality. Tom stood against the door frame, smiling bashfully.

“Caught me red handed.”

But Charlotte could only look at him, rendered speechless. 

“Wasn’t lying,” he reminded her, “wanted you. Want you. If you’ll have me.”

 

It turned out to be the most difficult question anybody had ever asked her.

_Do I want this - Do I want to invest in this, whatever it is, potentially discovering it would be only a waste of her time._

Charlotte stood by her belief that notwithstanding their shared morals or values, their common interest or visions, they did remain so different on countless other things. Things that mattered just as much. And you did need _some_ common ground to form a solid basis on which you can build your relationship? Without a solid base everything goes to waste. Hell, even _with_ a solid base things could very well still go to waste. Her marriage was a perfect example of the latter.

On the other hand though... this was _him_ . The man who slowly but surely had crawled under her skin. Attentive, interested, good hearted. And when she’d crumbled down in Germany he was there, while he didn’t really need to be there. Yet there he was, offering support when she had needed it most. He unknowingly found the smallest of cracks in the seemingly airtight seal around her heart and nestled himself inside. Gentleman-like, well dressed and with a good book. Ever patient. Trustworthy. Present. _Shit_.

Her stomach was in knots when she came to realise, that day, what her heart had known deep down a few days earlier; she could not walk away. Not from this man. But the future scared her nonetheless.

 

"But - we're as different as chalk and cheese,"

"Are we?"

She smiled, "we live out of our respective suitcases."

"For now," he corrected her.

"Yes, for now. But when I touch down after all this...."

"You'll still only be 2 hours away,"

"But..."

"I dare you," he grinned, feeling he was winning this battle.

"Brexit," Charlotte tried.

"Honestly, Brexit? Of all excuses you come up with, Brexit?"

"Well,..." 

"I will gladly add some more pages to my passport. For you," he paused. “Come on darling, don’t hold back now,” he teased, “any objection you have, give it to me. I will gladly deny or overcome every single one.”

“To-om,” she slanted her head. He liked this _‘To-om’_ better, when her voice was full of loving emotion again. 

“Either you go at it with passion, or not at all,” he added. 

 

“Permission to engage the enemy sir?” he chuckled. 

Charlotte rewarded him with a lopsided smile. Momentarily banning all scary thoughts out of her head, she gladly but carefully opted to open her heart and take the leap of faith. As petrifying as it felt. Her smile was all the persuasion Tom needed to walk the short distance between them. He stroked her dark brown tresses, admiring her soft feminine features and seeing if he’d remembered them correctly. 

She closed her eyes when he slid his hand into her hair and slowly he leant in for a soft kiss. And another one. And another. Sweet and innocent, little testaments of adoration and longing. She ran a hand up from the nape of his neck and through his curls. She’d missed this, that much was true already. And she allowed herself to revell in this sudden rush of enamourment. 

She felt his lips curve into a smile in between pecks. 

“‘m getting better at this,” he whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Third time's a charm. No interruptions here, only Bobby.”

“Nu-uh,” Charlotte breathed, “you’re still buying me lunch Hiddleston.”

  
Later that afternoon Charlotte lovingly petted Bobby's head before making her leave. Tom had signed up for ComiCon in Vienna, which coincided with her seminar. Only two more days and they would be together again. After sharing a loving last kiss, Charlotte stepped outside into an unsure yet thrilling future.

Tom had asked her to call him when she'd arrived home, claiming he'd only worry until he'd heard from her. He was so easy to love. 

Two more days….  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Feedback always (and very much) appreciated. I would love to know what you think! ;-)
> 
> Feed the creator, it keeps me going ;-)


	14. Chapter 13 : Vienna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt -  
> Yet here she was, strolling through the Schönbrunn Palace Gardens, her hand safely tucked in the palm of the man who had promised to come whisk her away for the evening. Tom had informed her that he had planned on wooing her that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Bonus : there is an pinterest moodboard (which I keep updated with each chapter that rolls along)  
> \--> https://www.pinterest.co.uk/theheartofpenelope  
> * You can also follow me (and this story) on tumblr (link on my dashboard

****

**Chapter Thirteen : Vienna**

 

 **1.  
**Charlotte did her best to keep her facial features under control. She took a deep breath and tried to keep her mind focused on something else, anything else, fearing she just might break out in a besotted smile if she didn’t. And this was not the time nor the place to do just that. 

From inside the hotel lobby Charlotte had a clear view of Tom... waiting on her. As she neared the sliding doors she noticed him standing tall next to a taxi. A taxi?  

To her delight he’d caught her walking up to him and his lips curved into a content smile, his one eyebrow slowly lifted disclosing his (though slightly anxious) excitement. Well, that didn’t help things at all. And Charlotte was surprised at the amount of willpower she needed to prevent herself from just running up to him and falling apart in his arms. 

No, no, she would be cool about this, she reminded herself as she walked through the hotel’s entrance and steady on closer to Tom. So very sophisticated and _ladida_ , acting as if nothing could ever knock her of her feet. Not his admiring gaze ( _there goes my heart_ ), not the smile that reached up into his eyes ( _hello good sir_ ) and certainly not the softest kiss on her cheek that might have lingered on a tad bit too long.

Charlotte pressed her fingertips into his arms as Tom’s cologne dizzied her. Oh how badly did she want to slightly tilt her head and brush her lips up against his. But she shouldn’t, she couldn't. They needed to be discreet. 

She gladly allowed him to escort her into the awaiting taxi. And when he’d urged the driver to head on, she wanted to remark in all honesty how completely silly and unnecessary this was. Her hotel was smackdown in the center of Vienna. Everything was within walking range….

But then it dawned on her. Just a ride around the block. Just enough time to put his lips on hers. 

“Good heavens darling, this day went on for too long....”

  


**2.  
**It felt a bit strange to her, strange in that funky out-of-your-body-type of experience. Was this her life? Was this her reality? Wasn't she supposed to be networking, making connections for future endeavours, mingling with the in-crowd? Stretching her mind in academic discussion about legal competence and end-of-life care? 

Yet here she was, strolling through the Schönbrunn Palace Gardens, her hand safely tucked in the palm of the man who had promised to come whisk her away for the evening. Tom had informed her that he had planned on wooing her that night. She'd chuckled in absolute delight as he laid out his plans. Things had evolved so fast up until that point he now solemnly believed he needed to slow down the process. More than that really; he wanted to go back a few steps and make a start the way things he found should start. He wanted to pull back from the hussle and bussle of everything and just take his (and her) time. Together. But discreetly. Always so very discreet.

The Palace Gardens were a great place to start. The courtyard was mind blowingly big, enormously outstretched. It held so many types of flowers, and all shrubberies were tweaked to perfection. It was simply perfect and with its maze, nothing short of a fairy tale. The crown of it all however was the Gloriette, a pavillion type of building with grand windows. It had been designed to glorify Habsburg power and the “Just War” (a war that would be carried out of "necessity" and lead to peace). 

These days the Gloriette houses a café and an observation deck which provides panoramic views of the city but unfortunately it was already closed by the time Tom and Charlotte passed through.

Charlotte sighed at the sight of so much splendour and, without realising, held on tighter to Tom’s arm. He chuckled warmly and shared his admiration with Charlotte before urging her to tell him more about her current plans… There were so many questions, so many things he wanted to learn about her. 

He led her to a cosy little Italian place near the river. Highly recommended by Ben and Sophie, who described it as a nice and quiet yet authentic restaurant where they would surely be able to enjoy a ridiculously good pasta in all privacy. Tom didn’t need to hear about this place twice and made reservations - himself - as soon as possible.

Ben and Sophie were clearly very reliable advisors. That became quite clear when Tom sat down on the patio of said restaurant. With Charlotte across the table, toasting with a glass of red wine, the evening was already all he had hoped it to be. They wined and dined, they talked so easily, with a fair amount of flirt that was steady on growing stronger through the course of their meal. His hand searched out hers at the table and squeezed it gently while he quietly proposed they would take their dessert elsewhere. Charlotte lifted a brow under a playful chuckle and flirtily added he’d made her quite curious now… about that dessert...

 

 **3.**  
Never in a million years would Charlotte have guessed there would be some last minute running involved after that incredibly delicious meal. She’d spontaneously declared Tom insane, loudly questioning what he was up to as she rushed after him towards to some sort of house by the river.  

But Tom would not be Tom if he hadn’t prepared the evening. He was enamoured with her and he felt happier than he had felt in a long time. But he hadn’t walked the parcours to all of this like he usually would and he nervously and desperately wanted to make up for that. He want a night of perfection, a night of romance, an evening out in which he could prove to her that he - personally - made an effort. Just for her. And that he had gladly ruled out any other intrusions beyond themselves. That part was a tricky bit though. But he happily went for it. For her.  

And that’s why he felt they _needed_ to catch the very last riverboat that night. The absolute last one that was to depart that evening in fact; because the summer sun was about to set. 

Charlotte had giggled and merely shook her head as they boarded. Yet she couldn’t resist but to quietly and playfully reprimand Tom with, “I’m here. With you. That is all that matters. To me, that is.”

He’d nodded in understanding, but under a bashful smile, gladly guided her to the back of the pleasure boat; out on the terrace on those wooden benches. Tom mindfully draped one of the fleece blankets over Charlotte’s legs as dusk had now started to set in. Charlotte exhaled blissfully at his thoughtful gesture. And when Tom put his arm around her shoulders, she allowed herself to relax and lean closer to him. There were absolutely no paparazzi here. Nor other spying eyes. Everybody’s attention was clearly turning on the scenery outside of the boat, not inside. 

“I know darling,” he finally replied to her, “and I apologise for rushing you, but… I want, or I need, tonight to be perfect. I just want this to be ‘us’. Nobody else.”

“Us... ,” Charlotte’s lips curved into a smile, “I like the sound of that.”

 

She chuckled some more as she flicked her fingers against the baseball cap he’d put on during their mad dash for the boat. It was an nice attempt for anonymity, but she hated the thing. Tom looked back at her sternly, but his eyes twinkled with mischief. 

“Steady now, love…” 

Charlotte tittered before setting her sights back onto the beautiful scenery as the boat glided across the Danube river. It was quite here, serene even. No crowds, no traffic, only the sound of water lapping the hull of the boat. She admired the Austrian architecture, but her breath got caught when she could very clearly now see the sun setting against the horizon. And Vienna’s city lights came to life. 

A small shiver ran across her back and she felt his arm pull her in closer. Charlotte slid out her seat a bit and allowed herself to shamelessly lean against his strong chest. His familiar cologne immediately soothed her and she sighed while admitting to him the scenery was simply beautiful. 

Tom smiled to himself and looked down at her lovingly before he ever-so-sweetly placed a longing kiss on her lips which she most definitely did not reject. Charlotte gladly molded herself to his position and gratefully returned the kiss she did expect to be receiving in public.

 

Two days ago, they had spent their afternoon in London talking in earnest over lunch, and then lounging in his living room afterwards. They had taken their time with discovering the other, with kissing and feeling, with lounging and talking. But they hadn’t slept together again since Edinburgh, and right now this little fact somehow - and very acutely - only added to the longing. 

A small whimper escaped from her Charlotte’s mouth and Tom pulled back with a slight curse under his breath when he realised the boat tour wouldn’t be over for another 20 minutes… 

While their kiss softly but surely deepened, his hand snuck lower and under the blanket where it caressed one of her legs and then upwards before softly but surely clasping her inner thigh. Charlotte squirmed in her seat uneasily, locking her eyes with him surprised. 

“I thought you were all about discreet,” she mumbled with an eyebrow raised in delight. 

“Oh but I am darling,” he whispered into her ear while he adoringly massaged her thigh. 

“B-b-beg to differ…” she stuttered, a slight blush rising to her cheeks..

His crystal blue eyes met her chocolate brown ones. 

“So happy. Here. With you,” 

  
  
**4.  
**Charlotte wasn’t entirely sure how they had managed to make it safely from the boat back to the hotel room and frankly at that time she couldn’t care less about it. Because Tom’s lips were leaving a deliciously enthralling trail of kisses down her neck. Leaving a path of gentle nips from the column of her neck down to her clavicle, Charlotte dropped her head back in surrender and blissfully gasped his name.”

Tom groaned appreciatively as he sweetly pressed his lips onto her almost bare shoulder. Charlotte’s hands ran over his shoulders and then over his neck and up into his hair. She curled her fingers and softly tugged at his curls in an implicit attempt for him to place his lips onto hers. Words were a bit of a struggle for her now that arousal had started to cloud her mind.

Their mouths very quickly came crashing back together again. The word frantic came to mind. When they pulled back their gasps for air were slightly mingled with idiotic chuckles. 

“It’s been too long,” Tom whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

“Mmm, I agree,” Charlotte breathed. 

“Give me a second, will you,” he chuckled, “else I fear I won’t last long…” 

 

She loved how he gently stroked her long hair while seemingly grounding himself for a moment. His eyes were closed and she distinctly heard him taking a deep breath in and out. And while she contemplated on following his example, she failed to do so as her heart was still savagely beating within her chest. However she did manage to close her eyes while he slid his hands over her body, carefully tracing her curves. But slowly this time. He wanted to take his time. That was obvious. 

She felt his hands as they slid down over her waist, over the swell of her hips and down her thighs. While his mouth slowly claimed hers again. His tongue slowly gliding against hers, tasting of wine of the promise of a wonderful night. His fingertips rimmed the seam of her dress and trailed upwards over her thighs while Charlotte’s agile fingers patiently yet deftly unbuttoned his shirt. Her hands slid under the light fabric, firmly splayed out against his toned chest, up to his shoulders where she proceeded to push the piece of clothing off. 

And in return she gladly lifted her hands over her head so he could lift her summery dress up over her head as well. 

He murmurs something she couldn’t hear and probably wasn’t meant to hear. She would ask in normal circumstances ask but then his hands reached out the the curves of her breasts where they stroked and teased and readied the path his lips and tongue were so eager to follow.

_Words not important now._

 

It was only a matter of seconds before the last pieces of clothing found their way to the floor and Charlotte slowly laid down on the luxurious hotel bed. Desperate for any kind of friction now, she was ever so delighted when Tom skilfully undulated his toned body over hers. A slight moan got caught in her throat when his teeth softly sank into her lower lip and she raked her fingernails playfully over his lower back in retaliation. He shivered in response, muttering she was a “bad girl,” before ravenously continuing his teasings. 

When his fingers trailed down to her apex of her legs, she flinched and her head lulled back. A muffled whimper escaped her lips, much to Tom’s pleasure … And with even more adoration for her then before he bent down lower and decidedly ran his tongue over her little bundle of nerves. 

Charlotte proceeded to gasp, this time not so slightly anymore. Her hands clutched onto the sheets in all her might while Tom teased on, adding pressure with his thumb before steadily spoiling her on. A little peak disclosed to him how beautiful she truly was, all pretences stripped away, blushing feverishly and moaning delightful things in response to him. 

He took pride into bringing her to a climax and enjoyed witnessing her fall to pieces, knowing it was his doing.. Truth be told, it wasn’t a moment too soon for him though. With a speed and ease he anxiously chased after his own release that came much to soon to his liking. He needed to learn to pace himself again, he reprimanded himself jokingly. 

They rolled into each other’s embrace easily, lovingly, catching their breaths in unison. 

“Good heavens,” Tom joked, “you’ve ruined me!”

“How’s that?’’ Charlotte frowned under a laugh. 

“I don’t last that long with you. Christ” 

Charlotte lost herself in a fit of giggles. 

“Seriously,” he continued, “I want a rematch later on.”

“Later on?” she teased, “oh my, do you think you can manage that?”

“Hey!” he shot back, “why did you think I insisted on picking up these?” he winked devilishly to the cake boxes he’d picked up at Café Prückel on their hasty flee from the boat to the hotel. 

  
But Charlotte happily delved in though. Both skimpily covered with a hotel sheet, they savoured the stupendous cakes with vigour, and stealing a morsel from the other’s cake with their plastic forks. 

“Could get used to this,” Charlotte confessed with a smile.

“Mmmm, yeah,” Tom blissfully agreed, “I admit,” he added while munching on, “this one is the best ever though.”

He fed her another piece of his Sachertorte and jokingly pulled away when she wanted to take a bite. Charlotte cursed him under a loud giggle. 

But it was true. The cake was extremely good. And it was also true that Charlotte could get used to this just as well. Easily so...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Feedback always (and very much) appreciated. I would love to know what you think! ;-)
> 
> Feed the creator, it keeps me going ;-)


	15. Chapter 14 : Athens and a slice of home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt :  
> Because when someone manages to make you the happiest person and the saddest person at the same time, that's when it's real. That's when it's worth something. But her friend kept mum and it drove Lizzie up the wall. Oh yes, the part of an innocent bystander did not become her… never had, never would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Bonus : there is an pinterest moodboard (which I keep updated with each chapter that rolls along)  
> \--https://www.pinterest.co.uk/theheartofpenelope  
> * You can also follow me (and this story) on tumblr (link on my dashboard)

****

**Chapter 14 : Athens and a slice of home**

 

  1. **Curious Lizzie**



Friends had quickly detected a subtle change in Charlotte’s behaviour. She seemed softer, tired still but….  happier and maybe a bit more carefree…could that be? Lizzie did not hesitate to, one day, point out _‘Charlie’s apparent delirious happiness’_. 

Ok she might have embellished a bit in that department, but for all the best reasons though. She had teased her friend at first with offhandedly inquiring if perhaps it was because business was going well, earning herself that ‘non-disclosing Charlie-smile’. 

Truth of the matter was that Lizzie was fairly sure a certain ‘Tom’ had his hand in Charlie’s new-found bliss. And the annoying fact that her friend still remained to keep the matter under wraps peaked her curiosity only more. 

An inquiry along the likes of a _"how's Tom?"_ was standard met with a chuckle and a serene "good-good, he's fine." But that was as far as she would get. It frustrated her beyond measure that she could list the information she had on him on just one hand. Yes, one hand, five fingers and she knew this to be a fact because she had recited them, all five of them, to her husband David one night. 

  * __‘his name is Tom,__
  * _he’s British,_
  * _Charlie finds him quite handsome,_
  * _supposedly he’s also intelligent,_
  * _and quite attentive._



Even while low on statistics Lizzie did have to conclude these were at least proper traits, _‘but generic as fuck! We haven’t even seen him or a picture of him. Oh come òn David... ‘_

 

“So, when do the rest of us get to meet him?” Lizzie’d finally blurted out over iced coffee on a sultry afternoon, “it seems about time, no?”

This was a reasonable request though, wasn’t it? If Lizzie did the math correctly at least two weeks or so had passed since their infamous summerbabes-celebration…. two to perhaps three weeks - tops! - since Charlie’s trip to Scotland and her night of rapture over there. And while Charlie had expertly danced around her obvious discouragement after checking her voicemail in Lizzie’s kitchen, over the following fortnight she had slowly transformed back into a very delighted young woman, who was now - against all odds - back in high spirits… 

Sure, Lizzie had pondered, Charlie was in talks to work with the Royal London Hospital but that deal was nowhere near set. So both her regret and her newfound cheerfulness hàd to be because of Tom, there was simply no other logical explanation… And that’s exactly what triggered Lizzie even more. Because when someone manages to make you the happiest person and the saddest person at the same time, that's when it's real. That's when it's worth something. But her friend kept mum and it drove Lizzie up the wall. Oh yes, the part of an innocent bystander did not become her… never had, never would. 

 

Charlotte cast her eyes downward to her drink with a slight smile. With her hot pink straw she carelessly dunked the ice cubes while her mind tried to come up with a plan to meet this well-meant request with a sufficient, yet rejecting, answer. Because this was something she and Tom had not yet addressed themselves, not really though…

From out of the corner of her eye Charlotte could clearly see David nudging his wife. 

“What? Oh, long distance - shminstance,” Lizzie muttered to her husband.

Still trying to figure out her answer, Charlotte caught her breath when she heard David kindly interjecting;  

“Just let her revel in her little honeymoon-phase, babe,” and he planted a sweet kiss on Lizzie’s temple, “remember when we first got together?”

Charlotte was ever so grateful for that silly, small remark that had shut Lizzie up very promptly. _Good man, that David._ Eternally grateful even. But she did make a mental note to doctor out a way to diplomatically answer the next request she would surely be receiving sooner or later. No, Tom and her hadn’t really talked about any of this. And from the looks of it they really should, she guessed. First thing when she’d gotten back from Athens... the next destination she was flying out to later that night.

 

  1. **Beautiful Athens**



_Goes to show you never really can tell._  
  
Charlotte had opted to fly out to Athens in the early evening to avoid the heat and city traffic, only to realise that Athens was not at all as hot as she had imagined it to be. It seemed the Western part of Europe was boiling up, while the Southern part was actually quite agreeable and - low and behold - even managed to surprise her with short - yet intense - rain shower. What were the odds?

It initially had seemed to be a perfect evening for a hike up the Philopappos Hill, which promised a stupendous view of the Acropolis in all its glory. And boy, did it deliver... Grateful for the opportunity her life now offered her to travel gorgeous cities and see breathtaking sites, Charlotte had apped Tom the astonishing view that had unfolded itself in front of her. No words needed.

Philopappos Hill, that held the Philopappos Monument, had been quite the discovery… In the fifties it was declared an archeological park that consisted of ‘the Hill of the Muses’, ‘the Hill of the Nymphs’ and the ‘Pnyx’ which had been the meeting of democratic legislatures in ancient times. And while of historical, architectural and even archeological importance, it was also the home of indigenous birds, including the Athenian owl and the peregrine falcon. It was an important stop-over for many migratory birds and then there were the land tortoises and the numerous bats that had scared Charlotte shitless at first, .... Talk about another great picture-opportunity -gone-wrong, but she’d sent it to Tom anyway, in good humour. 

Listed by UNESCO as a protected monument of cultural heritage and yet it remained open to all, day and night, free of charge. All that thanks to a movement in Athens that stood by its belief that the best protection for the hill was guaranteed by the love, care and active participation of the local people. Philopappos Hill’s state and beauty had left Charlotte absolutely speechless and amazed. And - well - drenched after that sudden heavy rainfall that had come out of seemingly nowhere… 

 

An hour or so later, Charlotte happily and lazily stretched out in the luxurious bathtub at the Plaka Hotel, revelling in the warm water and the generous amount of bubbles she’d indulged in. She counted her lucky stars for that streak of luck that had brought her there careerwise, before her mind started mulling how on earth she had managed to pull an almost 180° on an emotional level in the same process… Because up until recently a pang of guilt had always plagued her when the concept of ‘another man’ - other than her now ex-husband - was being brought to her attention.

Post-divorce, after all discussions had ended and possessions had been divided, after all the dust had settled and the air had been cleared, Charlotte was relieved to find that she didn’t really miss someone. And when she dìd start meeting men ( mostly the result of a well-meant yet awkward set-up)  it was a bit of a relief to her that she didn’t run into someone who would meet up to the - admittingly - ridiculously high-ranged checklist she had cooked up in the back of her mind. 

_Ah well. When single and desperate in wanting to remain that way, you just shoot for the moon, right?_

So, men and dating… it was a non-issue, really. Charlotte had figured she would give herself the luxury of time. She owed herself that much. Time to take care of herself, she was adamant about that part. Time to get her career onto the desired path by investing fully in (nearly all) the challenges she would stumble across. Needless to say that, at that point, romance could or would only hold her back. Well, at least that’s what Charlotte figured. And with her past, who could blame her…  So she desperately attempted to avoid that particular path, at any cost. She wanted, no needed, to spread her wings and fly on her own. At least for a little while. To be who she’d longed to be again and - first and foremost - to be true to herself. And preferable stay that way as well… And then _he_ came along. _Dealbreaker_. And he messed up all the rules without realising it. Or did he?

 

It had been quite a surprise to Charlotte how Tom had managed to settle himself under her skin the way he’d done. And once she’d fully allowed herself to give into that knowledge and the temptation and all it encompassed, she’d found herself truly well lost and it had freaked her out immensely. 

For that exact reason Charlotte was tremendously appreciative of her hectic work schedule, for it mercilessly ‘demanded’ that their time together would be restricted, split up in small fragments over time; fragments that were never enough but had to make-do... It would be gruelling and demanding for any lovestruck couple, but for Charlotte all it meant was that she could take things easy. She could ease into it. DIp her toe it, see how it felt. And no person was to blame for it, only her work. It truly was a blessing in disguise.

Now in truth, Tom wasn’t exactly putting his feet up either. So his schedule was partly to blame for this as well. More than occasionally he’d have to fly across Europe for a meeting concerning future developments. And somehow this had led to secret get-togethers abroad… After Vienna Charlotte had travelled on to Budapest and Dubrovnik, before making a passage in Prague. And she genuinely adored Tom for creating time and opportunity to meet up whenever and wherever possible. 

On her part, Charlotte had gladly taken to Heathrow as her new airport of choice, where they could meet up whether for lunch when she was in between flights or once for a late dinner before she would rail back home. 

Currently in Athens, she was up for Napels next for a mini-cruise that would take her to Rome. Of all the things imaginable! Trust neurologist to have their professional association to work ‘a little something special’ out… But before that she would have a stop at home. A couple of days of normality and none too soon. To her delight Charlotte realised that in about 3 days she was also set to meet Tom again. 

_Oh dear sweet heaven, I’m counting down the days now…_

 

  1. **London to Athens**



Even early on, Tom had always kindly urged Charlotte to text him when she’d arrived on her destination safely. A gesture he gladly returned of course. It delighted him that soon her messages evolved to silly apps containing nothing more than a picture of her on a balcony or some other mouth watering location as if to prove _‘doing alright’_ or _‘wish you were here’_ or even _‘look what you’ve missed out on_ ’. She could be such a tease and that thrilled him so, especially when geography was not on their side... 

These days he caught himself, sometimes impatiently so, awaiting what she would send him next. And without fault he would grin widely when he took note that she had upped the ante, time and time again. She had humour and didn’t take herself too serious. Oh, how he loved that aspect of her particularly. 

Upon returning to his London home after another trip to Mallorca, he had dutifully put down his bags and went along his usual coming-home routine before picking up his beloved Bobby. The chocolate brown Spaniël was absolutely overjoyed at the reunion with his master and very gladly pranced proudly by his side when they took an impromptu detour across Primrose Hill.

 _This was lovely, absolutely enjoyable,_ Tom had reflected, _but her company would have made a very nice extra…_

When his cell phone beeped and disclosed an app of a drenched Charlotte upon a Greek hillside claiming she’d perfected her ‘Rain Dance Deluxe’, he couldn’t help but chuckle out loud. 

_Scratch that. Her company would have been perfect right now._

 

Upon returning home, Tom had eyed his still-packed bags with a sense of scrutiny and uncertainty. He really ought to unpack them, he was well aware. Yet he turned on his heels, rewarding Bobby with a loving pat on the head and urging him along for his dinner… 

Bobby was completely unaware of his master biting the nail of his thumb. After all, when being pampered with a delicious ‘master-is-back-home-meal’, all he wanted to do was happily devoured it, context be damned. So he also did not take note of his master aimlessly fidgeting around with his phone while he licked his bowl clean. He did however detect a heavy sigh falling from his master’s lips, but that one could not be on him. Could it? Bobby licked along his bowl once more before calmly lapping up the fresh water in his drinking bowl. 

The Spaniël curiously turned his ears as he heard the familiar sounds of the kettle being set. Retiring to his favourite dog bed, he followed the scene before him with anxious eyes because he clearly heard his master sigh heavily and mumble to himself yet again. Was he walking over now? Indeed! Crouching down to his level, Bobby was rewarded with another loving scruff over his head and under his chin. Oh, he’d definitely been a good boy for that, hadn’t he? 

“You’re happy to happy home, aren’t you boy?”

Bobby wagged his tail lazily in utter delight and looked up through droopy tired eyes. 

“Hmm, such a good boy…. I shouldn’t be leaving you again so soon, should I?”

 

Tom sank down to his level and opted to sit by his side. Bobby raised and slanted his head curiously, because this maneuver was new to him. However he gladly gave into temptation and placed his head onto his master’s knee while he fumbled around with his phone again, dialing a newly familiarized number. 

Now, there was only so much he could follow. He was still a dog after all… But his master opted for the speaker so he could carry on stroking his beloved Bobby while talking.  

“What if,” his master spoke up suddenly. 

“What if – what?” a woman replied.

“What if – you got home and…’ he hesitated, “I would be there?”

Water splashed to which Bobby quietly and anxiously growled… much to his master’s delight.

“Oh, you really àre in a bath, aren’t you?’ he exclaimed in a husky voice, “I knèw I should should have gone with a video chat.”

“I never lie,” the woman confessed humorously, “but - also - what are you saying?”

“If you have the time. If you’re _willing_ to have me. If you …” 

“That’s a lot of ‘ifs’...” 

 

Bobby sensed his master seeking refuge in silent nervous laughter. And then felt the loving petting stop when the woman replied, “I have work though.”

“I - I understand completely,” Bobby’s master paused, “then… we’ll just see each other on the weekend then, as we’d planned.” A pause, “right?”

“No.” 

“No?” His master hunched forward some in surprise. 

Bobby heard the woman laughing and apologising profusely, something about “surprising” and “not knowing where her head was”. _Silly woman._ Something with “whenever you want” and “please” and lots of those good praising words. She even mumbled Bobby’s name at one point. 

 

“Did you hear that boy?” his master cooed to him after ending said phonecall later that evening, “Charlotte insists I take you with me on a little holiday. What do you think? Bobby? Holiday?” But by that time Bobby had been massaged while into his own little land of dreams… 

 

  1. **So, this is me...**



Charlotte’s heart pounded into her chest as she ushered Tom and Bobby inside her home, muttering a “so, this is me…” and she gestured around inside. 

“You’re welcome to stay, if you want,” she blabbered on nervously before rolling her eyes at herself. 

_Seriously Charlotte? Who are you talking to?_

“I could easily book a hotel, you know,” Tom, ever so quick on his feet, retorted to which Charlotte raised her brow playfully and chuckled bashfully.

“I’m kidding,” he murmured while cautiously setting his bag on the wooden floor and gently inched closer to her, “I’m just so happy to see you are just as nervous as I am.”

“Are you though?” Charlotte scrunched up her nose. And to her delight he closed his eyes momentarily and nodded softly with a purred “mmm”. Bobby however ruined the sweet moment with an impatient tug on his leash and subsequent spinning around Tom, desperate to go and explore his new surroundings. 

 

And so, with an endearing smile, Charlotte bent through her knees apologising and exclaiming she should take care of her favourite guest first and foremost. As she cooed over Bobby, sweetly praising and ruffling his fur, Bobby kindly returned her greeting with the attempt of jumping up to her which Tom quickly forbade him to do. Much to Charlotte’s amusement. 

She suggested Tom to unleash him, which he hesitantly did after sternly reminding Bobby not to run. It was quite the sight and Charlotte couldn’t help but smile to herself. 

Very swiftly Bobby spotted the drinking bowl she’d set up for him in the kitchen. And he lapped up the water gratefully before setting out to search the premises. The soft pitter-patter of his paws and gentle ticks of his nails quietly set through the downstairs living area. It was a sound that reminded Charlotte of her own childhood and still cherished deeply... 

She unlocked the kitchen door that led to her cosy little garden, while Tom promptly rolled out Bobby’s travelling doggy-bed onto the hallway floor before following in Charlotte’s footsteps. Bobby followed suit, before roguishly diving into the garden curious-snout first. Charlotte laughed heartily as Bobby went along before easing an insecure Tom he would be alright in her closed-off, dog-proof garden. 

 

He instantly relaxed and leant back against the door jamb.

“I know it’s dark out, but it feels so nice and quiet here,”

“Private,” Charlotte smiled, “drink?”

With a nod he wordlessly followed her path around the kitchen island. 

“So, Charlie?” he pointed to the wooden ornament dangling on the key chain at her door.

“Nickname,”

“Charlie,” he pursed his lips as he slanted his head, “I like it…”

He smiled after sneaking another peek inside her living room once more while she fixed them refreshing drinks, “exactly how I imagined it.”

“Oh?” an intriguing smile crept across her lips “and what did you imagine then?” 

“Well, I imagined a long sofa, with plenty of comfortable cushions. Shelves filled with books, ...”

Charlotte titterd and shook her head, “Cheater! I told you about that.”

“Fine, fine,” he held up his hands as an act of innocence as he walked over to her in the kitchen again. 

“I’ll go again. I -  imagined big windows that invite a lot of light. Erm, I imagined a small garden,” he continued while striding closer to her still, “but I can’t see anything there, so help me god.” A chuckle fell from his lips, “I also pictured an all white kitchen, with… marble countertops.”

“Marble countertops?”

“M-hm” he hummed, “ _solid, sturdy, marble_ countertops,” he emphasized as he closed the distance finally and swiftly lifted her up on them. 

“Hi,” he murmured while his nose teased hers.

“Hi,” she breathed back, anxious for that kiss she’d been longing for ever since he stepped onto her threshold. 

“Am jealous of Bobby though,” 

“Are you now?"

He nodded and slid his hands softly over her knees and up her thighs before holding onto her hips with firm care, “he’s gotten wày more attention than I have.”

“Hmm,” she sighed, her hands gently combing through his generous curls, “and we can’t have that, now can we?”

He shook his head, and she caught that mischievous twinkle in his eyes sparkling in full force. It was all she needed to lure her in, and happily she brought her hands to his cheeks before leaning in for a sweet kiss on his lips. 

“Missed you,” he mumbled against her mouth. And that was just the final straw. 

 

A wistful sigh escaped her mouth and he captured her lips again with his. She responded instantly and so they finally reunited with passion, with fervour and a very blatant desire. There’s no decorum here anymore. It had been too long. Way too long and she was pleased he agreed with her. 

His lips conveyed her of how much he had missed her, longed for her and his fingertips firmly slid up her thighs, trying to raise up her clothing in the process. Charlotte made a quick mental note not to opt for a playsuit again, no matter how cute and sexy, on the eve of reuniting with a lover because his lustful groans suddenly turned to slightly frustrated ones when he failed to figure the garment out. 

A mild happy whimper escaped her lips however when his hand circled around her backside and forcefully scooted her closer to him and the growing bulge in his jeans. And all Charlotte could to was grab onto his shirt as she pushed her hips into him needily. 

 

Desperation. Could that be a fitting word here? Absolute desperation? To feel his skin on hers again. To have him fall apart because of her doing again? Her mind gets clouded though when his tongue started a delirious path down her neck before his fingertips tugged the straps of her clothing off of her shoulders. She can hear him mutter how the sun has spoiled her but is unable to reply at this point. Instead she locked her legs around his waist, in a desperate need for that friction. 

A groan and he grabbed onto her hips even more fiercely, growling something about ‘where next’ and it takes her a while to realise he’s talking about the directions to her bedroom. Luckily Bobby was having the time of his life in the garden because the two barely made it across the hallway and ended up in her reading chair, Charlotte on top, bringing both herself and Tom to a nearly simultaneous but earth-shattering climax. 

Satisfying and fulfilling. 

Easily, effortlessly. 

Addictive.

_Oh dear._

 

  1. **Settling in**



With remorse Charlotte left for the office the following day, only to return to her home where the windows had let the fresh air in all day. A dining set was out on the terrace and soft lounge music played in the background while a handsome man lazed in her garden, catching up on some reading. And Bobby? He relaxed under the shade of the shrubbery as if he owned the place.

Charlotte very much enjoyed seeing Tom lounging in the hammock, his long legs stretched out. His one ankle resting across the other one, a book propped up in his one hand while his other arm lazily bent over his head.

Tiptoeing over to him, she knelt down quietly in the green grass by his side so she could surprise him with a soft kiss on his cheek. He hummed deliciously, dropping the paperback onto his chest and stretching out his arms to her, wanting to draw her near.

These were probably the best moments, Charlotte pondered. The ones were he lay in her garden, so free of sorrow or stress. No clocks dictating their lives. Bobby either happily chasing butterflies or resting in the shade.

He muttered for her to _'come hither'_ and pulled her into his lap. Charlotte giggled and shrieked, claiming the hammock wouldn't last this way. But he would have none of it.

She could spot his laughing wrinkles at the sides of his eyes, and softly caressed them. She could spy her own happy reflection in his ray-bans. So perfectly happy.

"What are you reading?" she asked and wilfully followed the direction he guided her in. With her head resting on his chest,  he grabbed hold of the paperback and read out loud to her. Oh yes, she could get used to this… And she happily informed him later on she’d re-arranged her schedule so she’d be able to work from her home the next couple of days. So it would be just the two of them. ‘ _Against the world’_ , he’d teased. 

  
He was adapting so well, it boggled her mind sometimes. But Tom gladly admitted he truly was happy there, very happy, in their little cocoon. Nobody knew where he was. Well nobody of the outside world. He revelled in the fact he could just shut the door behind him there in her home town and nobody would be any the wiser. It was private, safe, secret. It was all he ever longer for. Not to be hunted anymore. Being able to step out with Bobby to the nearby park and be left in absolute privacy. Going out for an impromptu errand and be left in peace. Being able to kiss someone without having the media shred them to pieces when all they had for now was still so frail and new. And moreover uncertain whether any future could come out of it, although he was all-in already. 

 

There was only one little twinge by the end of his stay. When her doorbell rang, and Charlotte started muttering gibberish under her breath. She’d asked him to hide and to lay low and promised he would thank her later. So Tom saw no reason not to oblige to her request. 

But when he realised it was a friend coming over, and a close one at that, questions did arise. The woman was clearly surprised Charlotte had a dog over and he could tell there was some curious questioning going on before the visit ultimately ended. 

When he sweetly asked Charlotte later who the woman was, he was appalled that the woman was in fact Charlotte’s best friend Lizzie. And it made him contemplate out loud whether Charlotte was hiding her boyfriend, or _him_ as her boyfriend?

"Boyfriend?" Charlotte grinned, "Is that what we're calling it?" 

And with that she crawled over to him to tempt him into a luring kiss.

"Now love, come on," he furrowed his brow.

"I'm just,” she sighed, her eyes pleading, “not ready to share you yet." 

At his silence she softly nuzzled his neck, “I'll do that thing you like ..." 

Well, anything really, if it kept his interest away from the matter. And away from the fact the Lizzie was already pushing towards meeting Tom. But Tom’s cheeks flushed crimson, before he cleared his throat with a "darling, you know you better…”

 

Apparently this was not working and with a sigh she let herself fall back into the bed next to him while he reasoned that her best friend wasn't quite the outside world, and that despite their promise to be discrete he would honestly be ok with it if she would want to confide in her.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Charlotte sighed, “Lizzie is wonderful and very dear to me. And she's also the one who's been most on my case for …”

“For…?”

“For keeping to myself. For shutting off in the past.”

Tom propped his head up on his hand and she could feel his eyes flickering over her.

“She was probably genuinely concerned,” 

“Myeah,” Charlotte agreed, “I'm just afraid I guess that she'll only get ahead of things, while I really feel this need to take my time and take this slow.” 

Her fingertips trailed over his thigh, apparently she was on a better path now because his lips curved into a soft smile and his eyebrow quirkily while his voice dropped about an octave, "I like it slow..."

Charlotte grinned and tilted her head up to him, he teased his nose against hers.

“Thought you might…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Feedback always (and very much) appreciated. I would love to know what you think! ;-)
> 
> Even a 'hell yeah!' or a 'crap, no!' would suffice. 
> 
> It's like the zoo really : kindly feed the beast, it keeps me going ;-)


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